


Picture Perfect

by JennaMarie



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Gay, M/M, Murder, Romance, Traded, clubs, m/m - Freeform, mafia, mature - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-12
Updated: 2013-08-27
Packaged: 2017-12-14 17:28:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 103,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/839473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JennaMarie/pseuds/JennaMarie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Traded - A young man takes a dangerous job to put himself through school. To save his own life he further entangles himself with the Russian Mafia until he has no chance of ever getting out alive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

Alexander leaned against the door, his arms crossed over his powerful chest and a blank look on his stony face. The boy in front of him reached deep into his pockets and pulled out an ID that Alexander was sure was a fake. He looked at the piece of plastic, a sneer already budding over his handsome features, and a thin eyebrow raised. He glared at the blonde kid in front of him a moment, and then looked back at the picture. It was certainly a fake, but a damn good fake. The young man’s baby face was creamy, met with rosy cheeks due to the warmth pouring out of the club, and his gray eyes were piercing, but he was definitely under twenty one. He was an either old looking seventeen, or a young looking twenty, but in no way could Alexander accept the fact that this kid was born the date his license boasted. 

“It’s fake. No way you’re twenty one.” Alexander said flipping the ID over to check the back. He wondered if it was one of their fake IDs. They were made for the young prostitutes who were just under the age of consent. If they ever were caught, it could be said they were guilty of prostitution, but not the prostitution of a minor. 

“It’s not fake,” the kid snapped fussing with his black jacket. “I got it at the DMV after my driver’s test like everybody else. Now give it back and let me in.” 

Alexander looked at him a moment and then back at the ID for the fourth time. He shook his head slowly, and could feel the eyes of, Caleb Reese according to the ID, but then that could also be fake, throwing daggers at him. 

“Alek?” He called over his shoulder and a tall man came toward the front. He was bigger than Alexander, more meaty, but in no way more threatening. They both looked like thugs, and Alexander had a gleam in his eye that told Caleb he was dangerous. Alexander handed the big man the ID and heard Caleb huff. “I think it’s fake.” 

Aleksey, known in public as Alek, looked at the picture on the ID and then back at the person in question. He spent more time looking at Caleb than the ID itself, and Caleb’s cheeks flushed even redder with outrage. 

“Definitely. No way are you twenty one,” Alek said and reached into his black trench coat pocket. He pulled out a large pair of scissors and sliced the license in half. The kid, Caleb Reese, looked like he was about to explode. He actually brought his hands up to his blonde hair and pulled, something Alexander had only seen on TV. He would laugh at the kid, but Mr. Solovyov had given him very strict orders not to antagonize the patrons, even those he sent away. 

“Are you crazy? That’s my license!” He yelled and snatched the two pieces of plastic from Alek’s hands. Caleb’s horror and anger was real enough, but Alexander thought it only had to do with him having to go out and find another fake ID. “This is unbelievable.” 

Caleb’s eyes were wide and his mouth hung open slightly. He seemed to be genuinely distressed and looked around a moment at a loss. When he looked back at the two doormen only anger covered his young features. 

“I’m really twenty one!” Alexander and Alex looked at each other a moment. He seemed genuine. “I want to talk to the manager.” 

Despite the firmness in his voice Alek laughed. 

“You can’t just talk to the manager,” he said flatly, like they were let this kid in to see Mr. Solovyov. 

“You ruined my license. You know how much it costs to replace this? I’m not kidding. Bring me to him now.” 

He set his jaw and his gray eyes hardened. Alexander sighed when he realized this kid would no doubt throw a little bitch fit if he did not get what he wanted and he happened to know that Solovyov was not exceptionally busy that night. He glanced at Alek, who let Alexander make the final call. 

“Fine. Follow me,” He turned abruptly and Caleb followed, pushing through the crowds of people inside the club. He almost lost the asshole bouncer, who seemed completely unconcerned as to whether or not Caleb was actually following him or not. 

“I expect to be paid back for that,” Caleb called over the pounding music, trying to keep up with Alexander’s long strides. Alexander ignored Caleb as he entered the club, the red lighting and loud techno music not doing well for his pounding headache. He avoided the dance floor walking around to the lounge area where men, mostly twenty seven and down, were into some heavy duty kissing. Caleb looked at the men with a large, eager smile and Alexander rolled his eyes. They approached a large room which was blocked off from the rest of the club with tinted windows. Alexander knocked on it twice with a single knuckle and waited. The door opened and a man in a dark suit stepped out. He whispered something to Alexander and went back inside. 

“Come this way,” Alexander said walked along the back of the club until they came to a door. Caleb would never had known it was there had Alexander not gone straight to it and placed his hand on the door knob. Inside the second corridor you could barely hear the pounding music and the lighting was normal. No strobe lights to be seen. They walked down the hallway until they came to a door in the very back. Alexander again knocked and a deep Russian bark came from inside. Caleb felt his heart flutter slightly in fear and he wet his lips. This was certainly not part of the plan, but perhaps Slatkin would give him a bonus if he told him he had gotten into the Russian’s office and spoke to him personally. Caleb was broken from his thoughts when Alexander opened the door and stepped inside, grabbing Caleb by the collar and pushing him forward. 

Caleb looked at the man behind the desk and his mouth went dry. His mind seemed to go dark and he momentarily forgot why he had even come. The Russian was the most gorgeous, and most terrifying man he had ever had the pleasure of laying his eyes upon. The man had pronounced cheekbones and a strong set jaw. His face was chiseled and masculine, but held an air of elegance that Caleb could admire. His hair was auburn, closer to brown than red, short and parted at the side neatly. He obviously spent a lot of time each day combing his hair. Caleb remembered seeing pictures of Iosef Petrov on TV and while that man looked handsome and dangerous, he could pass as a legitimate businessman. This Russian could not. Like the bouncer who had brought him in, who Caleb could only assume was related to him, given the amazing similarity between their facial expressions, looked mean as hell. He was leaning back in his chair, a hand resting on his desk, a pen in it as Caleb appraised him, is dark eyes harsh and questioning and staring right at Caleb. 

“Can I help you?” He asked, his Russian accent sending a shiver down Caleb’s spine. It was thick, monotone, and the most terrifying thing Caleb had ever heard. What Caleb might have thought sexy, and damn were Russian accents sexy, he could only feel the trembling of his legs as he looked at him. It was not a struggle to even swallow, and the Russian looked at him with such venom, that Caleb wanted nothing more than to flee the scene. 

“Um…no,” Caleb said and turned to walk out the door. Alexander grabbed him by the color of his pea coat and stopped him. Alexander’s dark brown eyes locked onto his, his face serious as sin. When he spoke he was so close that Caleb could smell his minty breath. 

“I don’t interrupt him for nothing,” Alexander snapped and turned him around forcefully so he faced Solovyov. “He claims he’s twenty one sir, and demanded to see you when Aleksey cut his fake ID up.” 

“It’s not fake,” Caleb snapped, finding some courage back. “See.” 

He took a few tentative steps toward the Russian behind the desk and handed what was once his license toward the manager of the club. The man took it between his long, slender fingers and looked it over, holding the two pieces together. While he looked at it Caleb silently mused that he might have been a good piano player with fingers like those, had he not gone into the business of murder instead. 

“Looks real to me,” Solovyov spoke and Caleb turned to give Alexander a dirty look. The man leaned back in his chair and pulled out his wallet. With two elegant fingers he took out a crisp one hundred dollar bill. “A little extra for your trouble.” 

“That’s it?” Caleb asked, more offended then frightened at the moment. Alexander nearly balked at him, surprise and anger on his face. “It’s gonna cost me twenty bucks to get it replaced again, not to mention having to go down and spend all that time, and gas money, and all you give me is a hundred?” 

“I’ll take him back Mr. Solovyov.” Alexander said and he grabbed Caleb by the collar. As he was dragging Caleb out of the room Solovyov spoke. 

“Tell Sergei his drinks are free tonight,” Solovyov said and Alexander nodded. 

“Yes, Sir,” Alexander said and shut the door. 

“Pretty cheap boss you got there.” Caleb said neatly folding the one hundred dollar bill and putting it in his pocket. “I bet he has ten “G”s in there.” 

“He is not idiotic enough to have that much money lying around.” Alexander said stiffly, not at all wishing to have any sort of conversation with the kid walking next to him. 

“Ooh, Mr. Mob boss tell you that?” 

“This club has no affiliation to any Mafia. Our money is in a safe and is deposited into the bank every morning.” 

“Right…no mobsters running around?” The kid looked skeptical. “Whatever.” 

Alexander ignored him. A moment passed and then Caleb spoke again, hoping to get a reaction. He knew the bouncer had to be related to Solvoyov some way, and could very well pass for his son, but he wanted to get as much information out of him as he could, and anger always seemed to rustle up the most genuine reactions from people. 

“So, your boss is quite the hunk. Hit that yet?” He asked and watched Alexander scowl. “No, I bet he hits you.” 

Caleb laughed and Alexander stopped walked and grabbed onto Caleb’s shirt. 

“I am not a faggot!” He yelled, his eyes nearly on fire and Caleb felt his stomach drop to his knees. That he certainly was not expecting. His back ached from where he hat hit and he was silent a moment. 

“Look, relax, I’m sorry,” Caleb said to Alexander. Alexander released him and they began to walk back down the hall. 

“So, Solovyov is then… a “faggot”?” Caleb’s eyes were suddenly more alert and serious. To Alexander, he suddenly looked older than he was. With the expression on his face, a seriousness that Alexander had not seen before, he looked more mature. Alexander narrowed his eyes his eyes in suspicion. 

“What are you getting at?” Alexander asked slowly. 

“Nothing.” Caleb shrugged. “Just curious. He was hot. I’d let him plow me for sure.” 

He meant that too. What was a quick fuck with a sexy Russian, mob boss or no? 

“That’s it get out. Go dance or drink or whatever. I need to get back to work.” Alexander said snapping and pointing at the door. 

“Sure you’re not gay? You’re cute. I’ll suck your dick for free.” Alexander scowled and pushed passed him to the door. Pounding music reverberated in his ears and he waited for Caleb to walk passed him. 

“Fine, but you’re missing out. I give one hell of a blowjob,” Caleb said and disappeared onto the dance floor. 

_

 

It was three a.m. when the club finally closed and Caleb slipped through the front doors avoiding Alexander’s eyes. He walked a block down the street before he opened and reached into his plain and unassuming car. Pulling his camera from behind the seat he waited a few moments for the crowds to disperse. He heard some drunken howling, some vulgar words screamed out into the air, and eventually silence. When the street became quiet again he slowly crossed the street and made his way back down to the club. 

No gangsters stood outside and the lights flickered off. He looked around, his eyes darting around for anything suspicious. He leaned against the wall of a building across the street, doing his best to remain hidden. His black clothing helped him in that department. He normally would have added more color to his wardrobe, but as he left he had to remind himself that this was work, not play. He nearly gave up when he heard muffled voices from the alley next to the club. The space between the two buildings was narrow, but could fit a car between them and in fact it had. As Caleb slid down the building he could see a beautiful black BMW parked between the buildings. A dim light hung overhead and Caleb could clearly see men in suits exchanging brief cases. 

“Fuck me.” Caleb murmured. “This is just like the fucking movies.” 

He brought the camera to his eyes, and focusing, snapped the picture. He was a skilled photographer and was quite proud of the clarity of the images on such a dark night. A small nagging part of him, his survival instinct, told him to get up and leave, to quit while he was ahead. He couldn’t. His heart thudded in his chest and he felt like he was going to pass out. He clicked the camera over and over again, adjusting the focus with each snap. His pointer finger froze on the camera when he felt a strong hand clamp around his shoulder. 

“Oh fuck,” he said and looked up at the scary looking man above him. “You guys are good.” 

“And you’re dead.” 

_

 

He was dragged over into the alley by a large bouncer Caleb had seen earlier in the night. His stomach was in his throat and in his toes at the same time and Caleb was glad he had not drank at all that night because he most certainly would have pissed himself. As they approached the voices in the alley stopped and looked toward them. 

“Found him on the other side of the street. With this.” The bouncer said tossing the camera over to a tall man with blonde hair and blue eyes. Despite the firm hold he was in, Caleb brought up his hands and let out a small cry as the camera was tossed from the blonde man to another man with dark black hair. Had Caleb not been so terrified, for his life and his camera, he might have been able to recognize who it was he was about to address. Had he, he probably would have pissed himself. 

“That’s very expensive,” He said. “Please don’t drop it.” 

The man with dark hair looked up at him and his piercing blue eyes knocked the wind out of him. He flicked through the pictures and a wry smile covered his lips. He looked up at Caleb before he ripped the back off the camera. With graceful hands he pulled out the memory card and dropped the camera the ground. Caleb watched the lens shatter and the focus break off. A polished shoe kicked the camera down the alley way and Caleb looked up at the man in fear. The memory card was then snapped in half and Caleb could have cried.

“Oops,” The blue eyed man said with a cold smile and the others laughed. It was then that Caleb noticed Mr. Solovyov. He was standing only a few feet away from him, looking like he would kill Caleb with his abre hands. The anger and hatred in his eyes was palpable and Caleb shrunk against the man holding him, hoping to look smaller. 

“It seems you need better security here, Grigori,” The blue eyed man said with a small smile. 

“Seems you’re right.” Solovyov muttered. He did not say it was his idea to have the meeting inside, but Yakov’s to have it outside, where the world could see. 

“Who do you work for boy?” The black haired man asked. 

“I’m afraid I can’t disclose that information.” Caleb said stiffly, his mouth drying. The man let out a hearty, booming laughter. 

“You’ve got guts, son. I like that. I really do. That doesn’t mean I won’t kill you. Now, I’ll ask once more. Who do you work for?” 

“Slatkin.” He said and looked around at the different Russians. He would have rather told them he worked for the Italians. Many of the men scowled, and one spit onto the ground. 

“What did he want?” the man’s voice was calm and almost amused, but Caleb knew not to let himself get to comfortable. 

“He wanted me to get something on you guys. Anything. If I could prove anything sneaky was going on. I was supposed to give it to him.” 

“Not to the police?” 

Caleb was beginning to sweat. 

“No. He said I had to bring it to him. Well. One of his guys at the book store on 8th and 5th.” He looked up at the men holding him and then at Solovyov who looked like he was in pain. 

“Interesting. I have what I need here. Grigori take care of the boy, and for goodness sake,” The man in charge said with a teasing tone. “Try to make our next meeting a bit more secure. Do what you will with the boy. Come, along Yakov.” 

Three men got into the BMW and pulled away. Caleb was still held prisoner by his coat and the reality of the situation was beginning to sink in. Solovyov was staring at him with a calm, controlled exterior, but judging by the red ring that circled his eyes and the way his breath was leaving his nose in loud pants he had a rage inside him that was just waiting to break through.


	2. Chapter Two

The Russian stared at Caleb for a few more moments, rage eminent on his features before he got himself together. There was no pretending with this man. He did not have Petrov’s cool exterior or his amusement at those who wronged him. Petrov got offended, but he found people’s actions more amusing than anything else. How they thought they could cross him was beyond his understanding, but Solovyov did not find amusement in such situations. He found only rage.

“Let’s take this inside,” he said with a jerk of his head and Caleb found himself nearly lifted off his feet and dragged into the club. He felt a queasiness in his stomach and his mouth turned even dryer. They went in through an emergency exit and Caleb found himself right next to the deserted dance floor. It was odd seeing a club after hours. It was just a large black room, and the fact that it was completely deserted gave it an extremely eerie feeling.

“Hey, come on, we can talk about this –” he turned toward the big man holding him but was cut off abruptly when the large man reached out and slammed his fist into Caleb’s nose. Caleb saw stars and grabbed onto his nose, stumbling back from the large man.  
“Jesus Christ!” He shouted after a loud groan of pain left him. “You broke my nose!”

“Down Nick,” Solovyov said as if talking to a dog. His voice was calm and smooth. All hints of earlier anger were gone, but he looked far from amused. The lights were on and Caleb thought the club looked odd without red and white strobe lights and hundreds of male bodies grinding against each other. Solovyov stood nearly six feet away and Caleb noticed how tall he was for the first time. He must have been around 6’2, and was the perfect shaped and sized man as far as Caleb was concerned. Lean, but thick enough that Caleb, who was lean himself, did not have to feel like he would break him. His hair, like his suit, was perfectly neat and in place and his face had become terrifyingly neutral. Caleb licked his lips as he looked the man over.

“Are you going to kill me?” Caleb asked keeping a tremor from his voice. He wiped some blood away from his mouth and nose, wincing at the pain.

“I should. For embarrassing me like that,” He said evenly and then looked at Nick. “Where were you anyway? I told you to secure the block not go on a fucking coffee break –”

“-But I caught him, Sir.-”

“What if he was Italian with gun? Or one of Slatkin’s men –”

“He is –”

As Solovyov continued ranting Caleb rubbed his nose and looked between the two men. While Solovyov was tall, refined, handsome and had a thick Russian accent, Nick was large, burley, rather unattractive and had a thick New York accent. Caleb would have guessed he grew up in Brooklyn.

“Can I go?” Caleb asked and Solovyov looked away from Nick and toward him with a hard stare. “No then? I’m not going to do anything. I have no proof. You destroyed my camera, which was a lot of fucking money. I’m more of a threat to Slatkin now than you guys.”

“Your life does not rest on whether or not I think you are threat. Were you threat Mr. Petrov never would have left you alive.”

“That was Mr. Petrov!” Caleb yelled, suddenly thinking about the man’s features and trying to imagine him next to the pictures he had seen of the mob boss. “Holy shit that’s fucking awesome!”  
He bit his lip after his little outburst and looked down as Solovyov continued.

“Your life depends entirely on if I am in good mood. Those were two very important men here tonight. You have embarrassed me greatly.”  
Had Caleb’s life not been on the line he would have felt bad. The guy was obviously upset.

“You’re going to kill me because I embarrassed you?” Caleb asked in disbelief. He could see getting wacked for finding out some top secret information…but this? “Look, I’m a photography student that’s all. I’m not even going into journalism. I’m an artist. You know. I’m not gonna cause any problems.”

“I want to.” He said and Caleb felt his face go pale. “But I won’t. A senseless murder would only draw attention and Mr. Petrov would not like that.”  
Caleb felt like he could breathe again.

“Come here,” the Russian said and Caleb hesitated, then shook his head. “I could always change my mind.”

Caleb sighed and took a few steps foreward, closing the distance between himself and the Russian. He had to look up to see Solovyov, and though he was rather tall himself, just about six feet, Solovyov’s height was imposing. He flinched and closed his eyes as he saw Solovyov’s hand raise, but he could do nothing but wait. He need only wait a minute before he felt his nose come locked between the Russians thumb and pointer finger. He was about to pull back in pain when his nose was yanked, violently, to the side. There was an audible cruch and Caleb literally saw red. He stumbled backwards once again holding his nose.

“Fuck!” he cried in pain.

“You’re welcome,” the Russian said simply and Caleb gingerly touched his nose, realizing it had been reset.

“Oh, thank you,” he breathed, hoping to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. “As a thank you, I’ll suck your cock if you want.”

He had expected a scowl or a reproach, but a look of surprise and then an expression that looked almost tempted caught Caleb off guard.

Oh my God, Caleb thought, he really is gay.

“See him out, Nick,” he finally said to Caleb’s disappointment. A few minutes on his knees in front of this man would not have been a chore, even with the pain in his nose. A large hand grabbed his shoulder and nudged him along. He was thrown from the club but caught himself before he stumbled forward into his head.  
-

Alexander let himself into Grigori’s office and sat down. Grigori kept his eyes down at the paper on his desk and continued to write. He always did things on his own schedule and rarely stopped what he was doing for anyone until he was ready. The only people that received such an honor were those he could not keep waiting, and only one of those three men truly had his respect. Alexander waited patiently for his boss to look up. He waited a full fifteen minutes before Grigori closed the books and looked up.

“Uncle Grisha?” Alexander asked rather hesitantly.

“Yes, Sasha?”

“I don’t want to work the door anymore,” Alexander said leaning forward in his chair. “It’s boring and I’m getting paid shit.”

“I can’t put you anywhere else yet. This is a business, any signs of nepotism –”

“Yeah, yeah I know,” he leaned back again as he spoke.

“Sasha, your mother and I –”

“I know, came here with nothing, I heard the story. I just want to be doing something more exciting. Let me work with Nicolai.” Alexander offered. Grigori stood and shook his head.

“Your mother is angry with me as it is, letting you work here. You know I can’t.”  
Grigori opened the office door and waited for Alexander to leave.

“Fine,” Alexander sighed getting up. Grigori smiled and placed his hands on Alexander’s shoulders.

“Good. I will see you at dinner tomorrow.”

The two embraced and Grigori shut the door as Alexander left. Once he was alone Grigori went to his desk and sat down with a sigh. His hand went to his groin and he rubbed a hand over his cock. He reached into his slacks and pulled out his hardening erection. It had become habit that he would jack himself off before closing the club up, especially on nights when he would walk the floor. Watching all those young bodies grinding against each other worked against better judgment and he was always tempted to take one of them in the back with him.

He couldn’t do that of course. He had been given the job of managing the club with the instruction that he would not sample from the boys during working hours. He had sat across from Mr. Petrov himself and was given very ridged instructions. He had been floor managing another club under Mr. Gergiev and was highly recommended to Mr. Petrov. Although Grigori had been discrete Mr. Petrov seemed well aware of his sexual activities. When Mr. Petrov bluntly informed him that if his homosexuality were to interfere with the management of one of the most popular gay clubs in New York than he would be swiftly terminated. The wording caused Grigori to shift in his seat and smile stiffly.

“Of course, Sir. I would not think of it.” 

Petrov smiled warmly and shook his hand.

“It is settled then.” 

Grigori followed suit as Petrov stood. “You will start on Monday.”

No matter how warm Mr. Petrov had acted the meeting set a chill in Grigori and he made sure every little suggestion from Mr. Petrov was seen too. It made for frustrating nights. Young men would approach him all the time when he went out to the club. Not only did his two thousand dollar suits scream money, but he was painfully good looking in his own right.

He sighed and pulled at his belt and unzipped his pants. He pulled out his throbbing erection and tightened his hand around the shaft. Holding his balls in his left hand he slowly began to stroke himself. The young photographer came to his mind and he closed his eyes and groaned. Part of him wanted to throttle the boy for embarrassing him in front of Mr. Petrov. The other part of him wanted the young man on his knees with his pretty pink lips wrapped around his swollen cock.

He groaned loudly at the vision and his grip tightened. For half a second he had considered taking the boy to the back and getting his “thank you” for not killing him but thought better of it. He knew Nick; the idiotic bouncer was Petrov’s man through and through. Petrov found things out that he could only learn from the brainless bouncer. Long story short, bringing back the boy who was photographing their…nefarious… activities, to suck his cock would not have been wise. His hand began to move faster, picturing the smooth tan body that must have been hidden under his clothes. He came with a low groan and didn’t stop moving his hand under all of his hot cum lay on his suit jacket. Laying back he sighed. There goes another designer suit.  
-

Caleb got back to his dorm and shut the door behind him as quietly as he could, hoping not to awake his roommate. He was not entirely surprised when he did not find him in his bed, and instead wide awake seated at his desk. His roommate, sitting at his desk turned around and looked at him. He stared at his nose for a moment with a frown, but shook his head.

Scott Othello was a good looking guy, with sandy brown hair and a tanned complexion. One would easily guess his Italian heritage, and for that alone he had always been more skeptical of the Mafia. He could not walk down certain parts of Brooklyn or the Bronx without getting nasty looks from Russian’s, and in a city as controlled by the mafia as this, it was reasonable that one would see someone with as much Italian heritage as him, and think he was connected.

He was a good friend to Caleb though, having met the previous year at one of the more tame gay bars in the city. They had hit it off right away, and had kissed once, but the attraction was not there. They became instant friends, and had decided on living with each other. No one could really believe that two such good looking men, who were both gay, could live together without ever fooling around, but they made it work, and Scott had in fact turned into a bit of a parental figure to Caleb. At least, Scott thought of himself in such terms. He was three years older than Caleb, less impulsive at times then the boy, and thought he had a very good judge of character. He knew when to fuck with someone and when not too. Caleb did not seem to have that ability.

“Have fun?” Scott asked with the skillful disappointed tone of a parent. Caleb only nodded.

“Um, yeah,” he replied simply.

“I know you don’t like it when I impose myself on you, but those clubs I really think you should avoid,” he replied, turning back to his homework.

“And I think you should be asleep at four in the morning, but you aren’t.” Caleb retorted.

“I’m studying,” Scott said closing his book and standing.

“Which you should be doing too.”

“I have nothing to study,” Caleb answered brushing his hand through his hair and sitting on his bed. He pulled off his shoes and lay down. “I just need to put my portfolio together.”

He bit his lip. How the hell was he going to finish his portfolio without his camera? There was no way he could get another one for another couple weeks. He had spent his entire pay check on getting new clothes in order to go to the club. So much for an easy five grand. He crossed his arms over his chest.

“Can I borrow a couple hundred dollars?” Caleb asked Scott who looked over at him.

“What?”

“No then?” he asked. “I figured. Night.” 

“Morning.” Scott said and put his coat on, before walking out of the door.


	3. Chapter Three

“You aren’t going to that club again,” Scott’s question was formed as a statement that did little to deter his friend. He could tell from the way Caleb was getting dressed he was heading out to a club, and much to Scott’s distress, he knew his friend better than to think anything else. He tried to reason with Caleb to wait and that it was crazy to go out clubbing right when final exams were coming up, but Caleb could not wait until his exams were over. He needed a camera now, or only half of his portfolio would be finished and he would lose what little scholarships he had left.

“What if I am?” Caleb asked back putting on his coat. He eyed himself in the mirror, thankful that the bruises around his eyes were gone and that he looked basically back to normal. His nose was straight, and despite a little bit of swelling left behind, he looked about the same. In a few days, he would be perfectly back to normal.

“It’s dangerous. There’s a perfectly fine gay bar right down the street. Meet someone there.”

“That place is lame.” Caleb said.

“What, because it’s not run by the Russian mafia?” Scott retorted turning around to face Caleb. Caleb could see real concern on his face but he ignored him.

“No because there are no interesting people there,” he said and Scott frowned, looking unhappy.

“I don’t think you should go. You’ll get yourself killed,” Scott warned him solemnly.

“I’ll be fine. Something tells me the manager is a bit of a pussy anyway.”  
I mean, what kind of real cut throat mafia man would just let him go? Not that Caleb was not thankful, but he seemed like a dog with all bark and no bite. What could possibly go wrong?  
_

Caleb bit his nails down to the quick as he walked down the street. He had gotten the courage to come down here, but during the drive over his courage rapidly depleted. His professor had told him he would not be able to get a new camera from the school and that he would need to get a new one before the term was over and the portfolio was due. After being cut off from his family he struggled desperately to put himself through school and he had worked three jobs to buy that camera. Now he was down a camera and five grand.

He was nervous about Slatkin too. If he was anything like Petrov he wouldn’t take kindly to failure. The only thing Caleb could hope for was that Slatkin wouldn’t care and would simply replace him without pay. Either way he needed a goddam camera.

With a deep breath he stepped into line. He fidgeted the entire time he was in the line, getting strange looks from a few people around him. One guy, who at first looked like he was going to come onto Caleb, frowned and inched away from him. Caleb, to the common observer, looked like an addict desperate for his next fix. When he stepped up he saw the asshole who cut up his ID and his little bitch sidekick.

“Are you kidding me? You actually came back?” Alexander asked in slight disbelief. “You’ve got balls kid, but I don’t think I should let you in.”  
Alek nodded next to him.

“I’m not here for the club; I need to talk to Solovyov.” Caleb said shoving his hands in his pockets.

“No.” Alexander said shaking his head. “He won’t see you.”  
“How do you know?” Caleb asked and licked his lips. “Look it’s important. I need to talk to him.”  
Alexander squinted at him.

“I don’t know…” He looked behind him. He looked unsure of himself.

“Please.” Caleb said. “I’m desperate.”  
Alexander looked at Alek who shrugged. Alek certainly wouldn’t say either way. Alexander wouldn’t lose his job if he pissed off Solovyov, but Alek certainly would.

“Fine. Follow me,” Alexander eventually said and turned to leave. Caleb was once again lead through the club and taken to the back. When they got to Solovyov’s door Caleb took a deep breath and shoved his hands in his pockets to keep his trembling hands form being seen.

“Ready?” Alexander asked and Caleb only nodded. Alexander knocked on the door as he had last time. Two crisp knocks with one knuckle.

“Come in.” He heard and Alexander opened the door.

“You won’t believe who I have with me.” Alexander said and Grigori immediately looked up. His expression didn’t change when he saw Caleb but saw anger in his eyes.

“Leave us, Alexander,” Alexander nodded, a small smile on his lips and left. He almost whispered good luck to the kid, but decided not to. If he was idiotic to get himself in this mess in the first place than he didn’t deserve luck.

“You dare show your face here again?” He asked the anger finally spilling over to his face.

“I-I-I need a camera,” Caleb blurted out and Solovyov’s expression turned from anger to fury.

“You need a camera?” He stood up so violently that the chair he had been sitting on tipped over. He approached Caleb with long, angry strides and Caleb backed up toward the door. Caleb had always thought he was a decent sized guy standing at 5’11 but he felt short next to the Russian. He pressed himself against the wall and felt his face go pale.  
“You came here to tell me you needed a camera?” He was almost yelling. Caleb couldn’t speak and he pressed himself harder into the door. He suddenly regretted coming here. Solovyov had been so forgiving a few weeks ago he assumed that the Russian would take this more calmly.

“I asked you question boy now answer me!” He snapped and Caleb blinked rapidly.

“Y-yes.” He said and Solovyov’s hand found Caleb’s throat. His hand was large and strong, and managed to wrap around Caleb’s neck securely. Caleb already felt his breath become lighter as he began to panic. 

“You’ve got a lot of nerve,” Solovyov said, his eyes on fire and Caleb felt his hand begin to tighten. “I let you go with life and you come back demanding a camera!”  
His face was inches from Caleb’s, who trembled against the wall.

“I thought that-“

“Oh you thought.” He said. His grip on Caleb’s neck tightened even more and with his free hand the Russian reached into his coat pocket. Caleb expected to see a gun emerge, but what he saw was much worse. Solovyov pulled out a black object that was maybe around five inches. Caleb couldn’t get a good look at it until it was brought closer to his face. When the blade swung away from the handle Caleb felt his knees buckle. The only thing giving him strength to stand was knowing if he fell the Russian would be holding him up… by his neck. Caleb felt tears prick at his eyes and he could see himself in the shiny silver blade. He could not take his eyes away from the death bringing steel.

“You should feel special.” The Russian, suddenly calm. “This is my favorite switchblade.”

The cold metal touched Caleb’s face, adding slight pressure with each passing moment and Caleb felt like he was going to throw up. The blade traced its way from Caleb’s cheek to the side of his eye, leaving a faint trail of red behind it. Caleb could feel the distant stinging, but his mind was too focused on the fact that he might very well be killed or deformed after this.

“Please don’t kill me,” Caleb said tears falling over his cheeks. His tears stung the cut on his face and he was all the more aware of the situation he had placed himself in.

“Caleb, isn’t it?” he asked politely and Caleb nodded. “Tell me, Caleb. Which of your eyes is your favorite?”

Caleb felt bile rise in his throat.

“That one will come out first.”

Solovyov slowly began to place gradual pressure to the side of his eye socket. Just as the Russian was going to take the final plunge and pop out the first eye a loud knock came to the door and he froze. Caleb almost cried for help but realized how pointless it would be. Solovyov released Caleb’s neck and he fell to the floor holding his bleeding face. Solovyov was so close that Caleb was practically sitting on his feet and as he glanced up at the Russian he was able to see just how imposing this man really was.

“Da?” Solovyov asked but did not move. Instead he looked down at the weeping boy.

“We got problems on the floor. Some big guy won’t leave some kid alone. He feels kinda harassed.”

Nick’s voice came from the other side of the door and Solovyov thought a moment.

“I will be right there,” he said and Nick could be heard moving away. Solovyov’s hand grabbed the door handle and he nudged Caleb to the side with a black polished shoe.  
“Move,” he said after a moment of frustration. Caleb could hardly bring himself to move, and Solovyov actually had to place a rather hard kick to Caleb’s thigh to get him in motion.  
“When I get back, you will learn lesson in taking advantage of my generosity,” he said and slammed the door behind him. Caleb heard a click of a lock and covered his face with his hands. How had he been so stupid?

-

Grigori walked down the hall as he folded the knife and placed it back in his pocket. The boy coming back to the club proved that he was not taken seriously. It infuriated him. It caused such a blistering rage inside of him that he could think of nothing else but popping the boys eyes right out of their sockets. Petrov was finally taking him seriously, after years of just being on the lower of level of things. He was now in charge of their cocain profits and his Brooklyn clubs, and Solovyov had managed to get that position despite the degrading and humiliating treatment he had received from Petrov’s two creatures. He was just as ruthless as any other mobster out there, only he used his brain and did not kill needlessly. The boy coming back here was just insulting and reminded him too much of those two blonde bastards. He shook his head. Boy thought he could come to HIS club and demand a camera. He let a lot of things go, but such blatant disrespect was too much.

He shoved the door to the floor open roughly and prowled onto the floor. It didn’t take long for him to find where the trouble was. A large man in a leather jacket was screaming and pointing in Nick’s chest near the far exit while a kid of maybe twenty three was looking around slightly worried.

“Is there problem?” He asked as he approached the screaming man.

“This little bitch kneed me in the balls!” He yelled.

“He wouldn’t leave me alone! I told him to back off and he wouldn’t,” the kid said and Solovyov nodded.

“Nick, see the gentlemen out. Make sure he doesn’t come back.

“Me? Make him leave!” He screamed and Solovyov grabbed him by the collar, pulled him forward and then shoved him back. It was so unexpected that he was able to move the larger man nearly five feet before he regained his footing.

“See him out Nick.” He said calmly brushing the front of his suit off. “I don’t want to be disturbed the rest of the night. If something happens, deal with it, that’s why I am paying you.”  
-

Caleb yanked at the handle, jumping up and down and leaning backward, but the door would not budge. His face had stopped bleeding but it burned painfully. The two pricks next to his eyes were stinging the worst. He was still yanking on the door when it swung open and he went flailing backward. When he looked up Solovyov was standing in the doorway with a dark expression. Caleb scrambled to his feet as Solovyov shut the door. Caleb went around the side of the Russian’s desk and looked around for a weapon. He found none but as Solovyov’s hand reached for him he reached out and did his best to get himself out of the Russian’s grip. He struggled against the hand that grabbed onto his wrist and tried to strike out but it left little effect on the larger man. He bit at a hand that grabbed at his face and he heard a sharp cry of pain. He felt a surge of triumph shoot through him until he felt his body being flung over the desk and his head slammed down on the hard cold wood. As his head came down his teeth bit down on his tongue and he felt his mouth fill with blood. For a horrifying second he thought he had bit his tongue off. He slid his tongue around his mouth and silently thanked God he hadn’t.

A large hand pressed down on the side of his face with such an immense pressure he thought his head was going to be flattened. He could hear Solovyov breathing heavy and his body was pressed closed to his. Caleb kept his eyes closed and waited for the knife to begin to dig into his eye socket. He felt nothing except the hand pressing down on his face and he opened his eyes. His body was shaking and he felt the Russian lean over him, his hard chest pressing into his back.

“Please don’t cut out my eyes,” Caleb whispered his lips trembling. Tears leaked from his eyes and waited for Solovyov to speak. The hand left his face and Caleb imagined the knife coming out again but it didn’t.

“You’ve disrespected me today.” The Russian spoke slowly and calmly, his lips inches from Caleb’s ears.  
“I’m sorry.” Caleb’s voice rivaled a whine.

“You’re much more attractive this way,” Solovyov said and Caleb shuddered at the dark lust in his voice. “You need to learn some respect.”

Caleb swallowed hard and screwed his eyes shut. Caleb was pulled from the desk and thrown to the ground with a violent thud. He winced as pain shot up his back and he looked up at the Russian towering over him with wide eyes. Strong hands pulled his chin upward and pushed his forehead downward so he was looking straight up. His lips parted as a small groan of pain escaped him. He was not used to be manhandled and he did not think he liked it very much. Every touch to his face irritated the three small scratches on his face and his nose was still sore from the weak previous.

Caleb was about to speak when the Russian’s hands left his face and began to unbuckle his belt. His breaths came out in pants and he felt sweat form on his forehead. With the Russian’s hand away from his chin Caleb was able to press his lips back together. He tried to swallow the saliva in his mouth but the angle of his head made it nearly impossible.  
“Keep your mouth open,” Solovyov said as he unbuttoned his pants.

“What are you doing?” Caleb asked. Suddenly his mouth was very dry. Solovyov pulled out his hard cock and Caleb’s eyes widened. The word hung came to mind.

“You offered,” he said and Caleb’s forehead furrowed. Then he remembered what he had said when he left the club. He had meant it when he said it, but he certainly didn’t mean it like this. Even though the floor was covered with beautiful white carpet his knees were beginning to ache and his neck was getting stiff. Caleb shut his eyes when he saw Solovyov fist his cock and moments later felt the hot, hard flesh on his face. He felt the hot flesh rub against his nose and he felt his own member jerk to life. He tried to remind himself that it was a natural, physical reaction, but a small part of him accepted that a cock as glorious as this one, pressed against his face was arousing, no matter who it belonged to. He felt his face burn and screwed his eyes shut even tighter. He could not be enjoying this, no matter what his cock was saying. He wasn’t one of those freaking power play people. He wanted a nice, gentle, loving-

A hand grabbed the side of his head, fingers threading through his hair and Caleb opened his eyes. The Russian’s hair was slightly disheveled and he licked his lips. He watched as Solovyov stroked his long, thick cock that was hovering directly over his face and felt another humiliating jerk of his cock. The throbbing erection once against returned to his face, the head rubbing against his cheek. Caleb tried to move his face away but failed. The Russian’s hold was too strong.  
“Would you rather lose your eyes?” he heard and stilled. “Because I will take either as penance…”

“No,” Caleb breathed. He would rather suck a good looking man’s cock than lose his eyes.

“No, Sir,” Solovyov corrected and Caleb licked his dry lips.

“No, Sir,” Caleb amended his statement and an arrogant smile covered Solovyov’s face.

“That’s better. Keep your mouth closed,” He ordered and Caleb pressed his lips together. The tip of the erection rubbed gently against Caleb’s mouth, leaving his lips shiny with pre-cum. Caleb had the urge to open his mouth and flick his tongue out at the teasing penis but thought better of it. He certainly didn’t want to piss Solovyov off more than he already was. His lips pouted slightly when the cock was taken away and Solovyov took a step forward so he could position himself over Caleb.

“Open,” Solovyov said and Caleb did. Stroking his cock, Solovyov approached and placed his balls over Caleb’s mouth. Without Prompting Caleb took testicle into his mouth and sucked before turning his attention to the other. Dragging his tongue over the warm skin he brought a hand to the front of his pants. He eagerly licked at the balls resting against his face and ran his palm over his jean clad groin. A small moan escaped his throat and the objects of his attention were taken away.

“Are you touching yourself?” The Russian asked with roughly and Caleb’s hands dropped to his side.

“No,” Caleb lied and Solovyov grabbed his wrists harshly. He placed Caleb’s hands on the sides of his thighs and Caleb fisted the black material to keep himself in control.

“Keep your hands there. This isn’t for you,” he said and Caleb’s grip tightened. His cock was straining painfully against his jeans and he arched his hips slightly so that he could gain some friction.

“Open.” He said and Caleb did. “Wrap your lips over your teeth.” He said and Caleb did as he was told. He was perversely excited to taste the Russians hard shaft. Fear still had a tight grip on his stomach, but excitement and desire were wrestling for that grip and Caleb felt like he was going to explode…literally.

Solovyov’s cock was placed at Caleb’s mouth and he slowly moved forward. His lips stretched around the erection and when he felt the tip of the erection nearing the back of his throat he still had another two inches to go. He was about to pull back when he felt a hand on the back of his head. The hand applied pressure and he was forced to take more of the impressive length into his mouth.

“You’ll take it all,” Solovyov said.

Caleb screwed his eyes shut and focused on taking it all and fighting his gag reflex. His face was flushed with heat and his forehead was damp with sweat. Solovyov brushed some damp locks away from his forehead and then settled his hands on the side of Caleb’s head.

“Look at me, Caleb,” he said and the boy’s eyes shot open. He looked up at the older man with fearful, questioning, and aroused eyes. Solovyov had to fight his urge to pull the boys head back and then plunge back in; what an amazing mixture of emotions in the boys eyes. “You understand who is in control now?”

Caleb nodded. His eyes were beginning to water. Not from fear or because he was upset but because the cock down his throat was beginning to be too much. Just in time Solovyov released his head and Caleb pulled back, taking deep breaths, the redness slowly draining form his face.

He was only given a few seconds before the cock was being pushed back inside of his mouth. This time he was not forced to take it all, and was able to control the depth in which he took the Russian in. Solovyov’s hands gently guided his skull, controlling the speed, but allowing Caleb to pull back when it became too much.

Pulling back Solovyov retreated a few feet and sat on his chair, motioning Caleb forward. Caleb’s mouth was back on him in a moment, his hands resting obediently on his thighs. Caleb could feel the heat radiating off of him and continued to work his mouth of the Russian’s cock. The Russian watched as the lips 

moved up and down on his erection and groaned. Leaning his head against the leather chair and closed his eyes, feeling the moist warmth work its way over his cock. Pulling back gently on the blonde hair he fisted his cock. He stroked himself rapidly until he felt his balls tighten and his cock pulse. When he looked back down the boys eyes were closed and long jets of come covered his face. They were both breathing heavy and Solovyov didn’t say anything when Caleb rested his head on his knee.

Solovyov heard a door handle jiggle and Caleb’s head snapped up and he was immediately wiping his face clean with hands. The Russian sighed and began putting himself back in his pants slowly.

“It’s locked. Relax,” he said shortly and Caleb looked up at him from the floor.

“Uncle Grisha?” Came Alexander’s voice from the other side of the door.

“Yes, Sasha?” Solovyov called. He stood and straightened out his suit. He reached inside his coat pocket and pulled out a comb. He calmly pulled it through his disheveled hair until everything was back in place. He looked down at Caleb who was still wiping cum from his face.

“It’s closing time. Why’s the door locked?” He asked and jiggled the handle again.

“I’m working on something Alexander. I will see you tomorrow.”

The use of his full name gave Alexander the impression he was not to argue and nodded on the other side of the door.

“Ok. See you tomorrow,” He said and his footsteps faded away.

“Get up,” Solovyov snapped and Caleb grabbed onto the side of the desk and lifted himself off the ground. He brushed a hand through his hair and licked his lips nervously. Ok, so he had just blown the guys brains out. What now?

“I have some information on Slatkin.” He said quickly and Solovyov frowned. “I know where his people are I mean. In your territory that is.”

He licked his lips again and watched as Solovyov sat back down at his desk.

“If you don’t kill me, or poke my eyes out I’ll tell you.”

“Why should I not just torture you until you tell me?” He asked and Caleb went pale.

“I guess you could do that, but I’d really like to keep my eyes…and not die.” He added. Solovyov nodded.

“Come back here tomorrow. You’ll tell me then. I am tired tonight,” he said dissmissivly and looked at Caleb for a few moments. Caleb remained rooted to the stop and licked his lips as The Russian leaned forward.  
“Go,” Solovyov nearly whispered. Caleb’s feet immediately began to move and he went for the door.

“Thank you, Mr. Solovyov, sir. Thank you.” He said as he opened the door. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

The door slammed shut and he could practically imagine the boy running down the hall and out of the club. He was curious to see if the boy would actually come back. He certainly hoped so. The boy had a great mouth.


	4. Chapter Four

Solovyov walked into the restaurant feeling confident, but as he was lead deeper and deeper into the building he felt his nervousness grow slightly. His palms became slightly damp and he could muscles tightened slightly. When he finally saw Petrov, a large smile on his face, he was pleased. Arriving at your meeting while Petrov was already in a bad mood was a death sentence. Not in the literal sense of the word of course, but things would definitely not go well for you. He also spotted Yakov and Adrik seated by him, smug smiled on their own faces. As Solovyov came to stand beside the table they both dragged their eyes over him, disdain written over their handsome faces. 

“Grigori! There you are,” Petrov said motioning to an empty chair. “Please sit.”

Grigori did and unbuttoned his suit jacket. He sat stiffly, as he always did but said nothing. He always waited for Petrov to speak first, and it was one of the things the Russian mob boss seemed to appreciate about him. There was nothing Iosef Petrov hated more than men who tried to charm him with small talk and flattery. Solovyov was short and to the point, and Petrov saw that as a useful attribute in one of his inner circle. Not that Solovyov had the honor of considering himself within the inner circle of Iosef Petrov yet, but if he played his cards yet, it would surely come soon.

“I must say I love your suit. Is it Gucci?” Petrov asked leaning back in his chair, running his icy eyes over Solovyov’s suit.

“Armani,” he replied simply, gently running his hand over his silk tie. Adrik and Yakov had to hide their scowls, but Solovyov saw it, and just as quickly as his eyes darted over to them, they turned back to Petrov.

“I like it very much,” Petrov told him. He touched his own suit. “I prefer Gucci, but I think some of Armani’s newer collection are coming along quite nicely. Don’t you agree?”

“I have always been partial to Armani myself,” he replied and Petrov nodded.

“Well, you have good taste regardless.”

“Thank you, Sir,” he replied.

“What do you have?” Petrov asked, recrossing his legs in front of him.

“I have the monthly bank statements, our profits and our expenses,” He said, placing his briefcase on the table. He opened it and pulled out three different binders full of his expense reports. He had spent a weekly putting them together, and nervously placed them beside the briefcase. Petrov waited patiently for Solovyov to put the briefcase back on the floor and spread the binders out next to each other.

“I have three copies. Here are the expenses and profits of the club and narcotics together,” he said and Adrik held out his hand and took it from Solovyov. “And here are copies of straight narcotics, and here are the clean copies, for our taxes.”

He sat back, watching nervously as Petrov read them over. He nodded appreciatively and looked through each file for each ten minutes each. The entire time Solovyov stood stock straight, and only once raised his eyes to meet Adrik’s. The two had a rather long staring contest, neither one willing to back off, but thanks to a waitress leaning in to refill Adrik’s wine, it ended with no winner or loser.

“Very good, Grigori. I am happy with this. Can you believe your predecessor actually only gave me one copy? Is there a good reason we are down five hundred from last week?”

“You had me re-furnish the VIP rooms and re-do the dance floor this month,” he said rather stiffly. He was always being reprimanded for things beyond his control, ever since he was a little boy.

“Oh yes, next time try to compensate better for the losses.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Are you enjoying your work?” Petrov asked. “Are you happy with where I have placed you?”

“Of course,” he replied. “I love my work.”

“That’s good. Bring the numbers up and I’ll add another club to your management,” he said and Grigori hid a smile. Those looking in from the outside might not have thought that managing a club was hitting the big time, but when with that club, came the responsibility of shipping receiving, and selling drugs and firearms from within it, the job became more serious. It was also quite obvious that this entire process was a job interview of sorts. Petrov had been trying to pass on some of his more tedious work to more underlings, so he could spend more time with his boy, and both hoped that they had found the right man in Solovyov. He had always been valuable to the Russian, and often attended dinners Petrov was present at, but it was not until he had rescued poor Mischa from the streets that Petrov decided to really give Solovyov his opportunity.

“I’ve been thinking about that boy the other night. Assuming he hasn’t told Slatkin he failed, I am sure he is still waiting for his photographs. I want you to plant some fake photographs, send them to Slatkin, and have the boy bring back information.”

“Should we use someone so unreliable?” Grigori asked.

“We haven’t been able to get someone in there. This kid already has a job for him. I think we should take advantage of it, and you seem like the right man for the job.”

“Thank you, sir.” Grigori spoke looking to the others sitting around the table. He was always uncomfortable meeting with Petrov and his inner circle. There straight faces and stony eyes made him want to shift in his seat. He didn’t however, and stayed still, trying to appear as calm and collected as he could.

“You may leave now,” Petrov said handing the reports to Adrik and Grigori felt his face flush.

“Yes, Sir.” He said and stood. “Thank you.”

He grabbed his briefcase and turned to leave. He heard the small group of men fall into conversation, heard a rather distasteful joke made about Eastern Russians and tightened his grip on his suitcase. He opened the door roughly and his driver jumped up. He had been leaning against the car and smoking just outside the restaurant entrance.

“Get in the car,” Solovyov snapped when the driver tried to open Grigori’s door. His hand was smacked away and Solovyov opened the door. He slid into the car and tossed the briefcase to the side.

“Hurry,” he said when the blonde driver got in. He actually snapped his fingers at the man. Once the car was on they pulled away from the curb.

“Where to sir?” He asked and Grigori looked out the window.

“The club,” he said shortly and leaned his head back against the car seat and sighed.

-  
Solovyov was dropped off outside of the club and was immediately approached by a shady person in a jumpsuit. He looked at the middle aged, gaunt and greasy man with a scowl and looked around uneasily.

“You came here?” he snapped as the man came closer.

“I got a problem.”

“Then call me like you always do. Don’t show up here.”

The man ignored Solovyov and reached into his jacket. He pulled out a stack of ATM cards and held them in front of him. Solovyov could see the dirt in his finger nails.

“I don’t know what to do. Kissin printed three cards with the same numbers. See every third. Someone will notice that.”

“Then throw away the copies and use remains,” Solovyov said dismissively opening the door to the club and stepping partially inside.

“But I get paid by the card,” the man protested and Solovyov looked back to him.

“Not my problem,” he said and nearly shut the door behind him.

“Slatkin would pay me all,” Solovyov heard him mumble and he caught the door before it closed.

“You want your money? Come in and I’ll pay you myself,” Solovyov offered calmly and the man smiled.

“Yeah?”

“Of course.” Solovyov said and smiled warmly. “Can’t have you disgruntled can we?”

The man walked in the door held open by Solovyov. The Russian lead him toward the back of the well-lit club, walking passed the door to the offices.

“Slatkin pays his men well then?” Solovyov asked and the meth head nodded.

“Real good,” he said and Solovyov nodded.

“Right through here,” he said and motioned toward a door on the far side of the club.

“Here?” the man asked and pushed opened the door. He froze as the door opened and he looked out into the back alley. “What –”

The gun shot rang out and echoed through the club. The meth addict fell forward and his head smacked against the tar hard. Two men ran from the back rooms of the clubs to check what was going on and Solovyov lowered the gun, placing it back in his belt.

“Clean this up,” he said began making his way over to his office doors. The two men said nothing but quickly went to the door and lifted the body inside.  
-  
Caleb stood in front of the bathroom mirror staring at his reflection. He rubbed a hand over his face checking for any spots he had missed shaving. When he was satisfied he walked back into his dorm room where Scott was sitting at his desk.

“How do I look?” He asked and Scott spun around in his chair.

“Fine,” he said and spun back around.

“Just fine?” He asked and looked in his full length mirror. “This is my favorite polo.”

He looked down at the blue and white striped shirt he wore.

“Should I wear the gray one?” He asked going to his closet. “Or my white one?”

“I don’t care,” Scott said.

“You are no help,” Caleb complained taking his shirt off over his head and putting on the dark gray one.

“I’ll be helpful when you stop going to that mafia club,” Scott responded. Caleb could hear the anger and annoyance in his voice, but ignored him. 

“I’ll be fine,” he said and Scott, unable to ignore his friend anymore turned around. He watched Caleb ruffle and re straighten his hair, and then ruffle it again, putting in a tasteful amount of hair gel to keep it in place.

“You have a date tonight?” He asked and leaned back in his chair.

“Um…Kind of,” he said. “This one better?”

“Yeah,” Scott mumbled and watched Caleb take out his brown leather jacket from the closet. “Don’t wear that one.”

“Why not? This is my best jacket,” Caleb said looking at himself in the mirror. For some reason he really wanted to look good tonight. It concerned him that he cared so much, but he forced it to the back of his mind.

“I just don’t like that jacket.”

“This jacket was 600 dollars,” Caleb emphasize as he looked at the jacket.

“Wear this one,” Scott said getting up going to Caleb’s closet and pulled out his blue sentinel jacket.

“That was only a hundred dollars though,” Caleb said and looked it over. It was one of his favorite jackets regardless of the cheap price.

“If you’re going out on your first date you don’t want to come off as high maintenance,” Scott said and Caleb nodded. It would probably be for the best anyway. He was in desperate need for money right now; showing up in 600 dollar clothing wouldn’t help his case much.

“Fine, but I still love this jacket.” He said and took the Sentinel from his hand. He put it on and looked in the mirror. “Good?”

“Good.” Scott said and went to sit down. He watched Caleb go for the door. “Don’t forget your phone.”

Caleb nodded placing his phone in his jacket pocket.

“See you later.” Caleb called.

“Be careful!” Scott called after him as the door slammed closed. Scott leaned back in his chair staring at the door with a worried expression. He reached over to his bed and picked up his cell phone, turning the ringer on high and placing on top of his text book.

-  
Caleb got to the club and waited nearly an hour in line. He ignored a few guys who were coming onto him and continually checked his watch. He was receiving text messages from Scott every half hour asking him if he was alright and eventually Caleb had to tell him he was going to shut off his phone if he didn’t stop texting him.

When he got to the door he saw Alexander who said nothing to him, but jerked his head to the side. Caleb slipped passed him and made his way to the back of the club. The big man, Nick, was waiting there and walked him over to Solovyov’s office. With Solovyov’s consent he opened the door and Caleb walked inside. The door shut behind him and he sat down across the desk.

“Hi,” Caleb said. “I didn’t know when you wanted me to come so I figured I’d come when the club opened. I don’t have a whole lot to tell you either. I mean I was only supposed to get pictures for them, but I talked to one of their guys and –”

“Stop talking,” Solovyov said as he stared at his computer screen. Caleb fell silent and bit his lip, his cheeks tinged red. Solovyov continued to look at his computer and Caleb looked down at the desk. He could almost see himself bent over the desk with the Russian’s hand pressing down on his face and standing over him. He looked over the way the Russian’s dark suit fit perfectly to his lean, tall body before looking up to his chiseled face. Finally the Russian leaned back in the chair and crossed his leg over his thigh.

“Do you know anything of any importance?” He asked and Caleb shifted.

“I know where his men run on your streets. They told me so I would know where to drop off my pictures,” he said and Solovyov nodded.

“Where?”

“Bradbury street, you know that little Bakery.”

The Russian nodded.

“They sell cocaine in there. And I’ve heard they have a meth lab in the basement.” He said and bit his lip. “And they have a prostitution ring on Brywood Street.”

“They have meth lab in basement of bakery? That is strange,” he said and wrote something down on a piece of paper. “Anything else?”

“Um…” Caleb tried to think. Suddenly his information didn’t seem like much. “I know he’s paying twice as much as Petrov. He’s trying to get more support and weaken your boss at the same time.”

“Everyone already knows that,” he said placing his pen on his desk. “Is that all?”

Caleb nodded. He suddenly felt foolish for coming.

“Good. I’ll buy you new camera,” Caleb’s eyes lit up. “But you have to do something for me in return.”

“What?” Caleb asked. A very small part of him hoped it was another blow job.

“I want you to go back to Slatkin with some photos. Nothing exposing anything concrete, we wouldn’t let you know anything anyway. Get as much information as you can from Slatkin, and bring them back to me.”

“Would I get paid?” Caleb asked leaning forward.

“If you bring back information that I can use,” Solovyov answered simply.

“And a new camera?” He asked and Solovyov seemed annoyed.

“Yes.” he said shortly.

“Yeah, I’ll do it. I don’t see the harm you know. It’s just taking pictures,” Caleb said and Solovyov stared at him a minute. Boy obviously didn’t know what he was doing.

“Go lock door,” he said abruptly and Caleb started.

“What?” Caleb asked taken aback.

“Correct response is ‘Yes, Sir.’” He said leaning back and uncrossing and re-crossing his legs. “Then you go do it.”

Caleb nodded slowly. He got up from his chair, oddly excited and went to lock the door. He heard the bolt slide and his stomach tightened. He turned around but didn’t move forward. He stood against the door and waited. The Russian looked at him for a few long moments and then shifted in his chair, sweeping his coat jacket from his front of his side, leaving his crisp blue shirt visible. His eyes focused on his broad chest before his eyes floated down his torso and to his waist. When his eyes reached his hips he noticed a silver glint. His eyes widened when he saw the grip of the gun and Solovyov chuckled.

“See my gun?” He asked and took it from between his pants and belt. “Come here.”

“I’m good over here,” Caleb responded and Solovyov could hear the strain in his voice. The Russian despite sensing his fear, only looked at him with hard eyes.

“Come here,” he said again and Caleb obeyed, walking over to him stiffly.

“Is it a Glock?” Caleb asked curiously. He’d never seen a gun, but he had heard Glocks mentioned in gangster movies before.

“No, a baretta,” he said as Caleb came to stand in front of him. “Do I make you nervous?”

His voice was smooth.

“No,” Caleb said with confidence he didn’t at the moment possess.

“No?” Solovyov asked and Caleb shook his head. Solovyov looked him over a moment but noticed his knees shaking slightly. “How about now?”

He placed the barrel of his gun against Caleb’s neck. He pressed down just above the boy’s clavicle and his knees gave out. He fell to his knees rather gracefully and Solovyov watched as all of the color left his face. “I asked you a question. I do not like repeating myself.”

“Yes, I’m scared now.”

“Why?”

“Why, you have a gun digging into my neck!” He cried his voice cracking. Solovyov leaned forward and spread his legs apart so Caleb was kneeling in between his knees.

“Oh, shh.” He said using his free hand to cup the young face. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Solovyov rubbed his thumb against his lips. His voice sounded comforting but the gun remained pressed against Caleb’s skin and he trembled. “Why would I give you job and then kill you hmm?”

“I guess you wouldn’t.” Caleb said, his voice nearly a whisper, and Solovyov smiled. He took the gun away and placed it on the table. Caleb’s muscles immediately relaxed and he looked up at the Russian with wide eyes. Solovyov leaned down and placed a soft kiss to Caleb’s mouth.

“Your lips are so soft,” he said and pulled back. “Unbuckle my belt.”

Caleb, with shaky hands, reached for the buckle.

“How many times have you sucked cock?” Solovyov asked and Caleb licked his lips.

“Four times. Same guy,” he clarified. Caleb liked flirting, but he didn’t want anyone to think he was a whore… not like Scott was. Solovyov felt slightly perturbed at the image of the blonde at his feet with another man’s cock in his mouth.

“Not including last night of course,” Caleb added, his face burning red.

“That explains why you weren’t very good,” Solovyov mused and Caleb’s eyes darted up to his. His eyes looked almost hurt and Solovyov regretted his statement. He meant it as a joke, but like everything he said it came out monotone and serious. He truly had enjoyed the boy’s mouth.

“After servicing another man you must have done what he liked,” he added afterward, easing the hurt off Caleb’s face. “I’ll teach you what I like.”

He gently ran a hand through Caleb’s hair as he unbuttoned his pants. Judging by the way the boy was nodding and smiling, he was all too eager to learn.


	5. Chapter Five

Solovyov removed his suit jacket and tossed it onto his desk as he prepared himself. Caleb raked his eyes over his lean body. Caleb wished he would remove more of his clothing, to see the lean muscle under his fair skin. Solovyov’s strong hands threaded through Caleb’s hair and he looked up at the Russian, waiting for a command. He wished he could do as he pleased, but he knew that the man before him enjoyed being in control. It was never something Caleb thought he would be into, but it did cause some excitement in the pit of his stomach. He could not imagine doing this sort of thing for anyone else, but getting Solovyov off caused its own bit of pleasure.

“Unbutton my pants,” Solovyov said and Caleb reached up, plucking at the button and pulling on the zipper. He tried to slide his hand into the Russian’s underwear but was stopped. Solovyov’s hand wrapped around his wrist securely and pulled it away. “I didn’t say you could touch. Hands on my thighs.”

Caleb did as he was told and Solovyov removed his semi-hard member from his pants. He gave it a long, hard stroke and when the palm of his hand brushed against the head of his cock he began to harden. Caleb ran his eyes over the hard length and bit the inside of his cheeks. He had only sucked off one other guy before but he was a big fan of porn, and he had never seen a cock as beautiful of this. It was not excessively thick, he could probably wrap his forefinger and thumb around the base and almost touch, but he was long. The shaft was the same color as the rest of his body and the head had a slight pink tinge to it. The top was already glistening with pre cum and Caleb only wanted to wrap his tongue around the teasing erection. He watched the Russian’s hand go up and down the hard length and he tore his eyes away to look him in the eyes. Solovyov’s dark eyes were staring down at him, burning with arousal. Caleb’s lips parted slightly and he went to lean forward but stopped himself.

“You want cock, boy?” He asked and Caleb nodded. Solovyov gripped the base and held himself.

“Lick from the bottom to top.” He said and Caleb, his hands gripping at Solovyov’s pants, pressed his tongue to the hot flesh, dragging his tongue from bottom to the top of the head. He repeated this gesture a few times when finally he was told to take the head into his mouth. He wrapped his lips around the head of the Russian’s cock.

“Use your tongue.”

Caleb timidly licked the head, his tongue sliding over his slit and collecting pre-cum as he went. He heard Solovyov let out a deep breath and he rubbed his lips over the moist skin.

“Pull your lips back. Rub them over the head. Good boy, now give the head a kiss…now your tongue.” He said and fisted the back of Caleb’s head. “Take it in your mouth again; move down as far as you can.”

Caleb pushed his lips further down on the throbbing cock.

“Don’t forget your tongue. Sucking cock isn’t just moving your lips up and down.” He told him and Caleb brushed his tongue against the shaft. There was something about having a lover so experienced and knowledgeable that excited Caleb. It did not make him feel inferior or inadquet, but instead only served to arouse him. Solovyov pulled his head back an inch. “Suck.”

Caleb’s face was burning and flushed red as he did, his own erection straining painfully. He prayed Solovyov would let him touch himself this time. If not he might sneak into one of the bathrooms and whack himself off there. Or maybe the Russian himself would jerk him off. His head was pulled from the cock he looked up confused. He thought he had been doing well.

“Take coat and shirt off,” Solovyov ordered and Caleb shrugged his jacket off. He lifted his shirt over his head and placed it on the floor next to him. His body was smooth and slightly tanned, hints of lean muscle rippling under his abdomen. He placed his hands back on the Russian’s thighs and the older man leaned forward. He ran his strong hands over the smooth skin of his shoulders and breathed out. He leaned back into his chair and grabbed Caleb’s head again, placing the lips over the head of his cock. He bobbed his head up and down on the head, rubbing his tongue against the sensitive underside.

Gripping the sides of Caleb’s head and moving him at his own pace, Solovyov felt his cock spasm and he came with a loud grunt. “Swallow it all.”

Solovyov said, not allowing Caleb to pull his mouth away. When he came down from his orgasm Solovyov let go of Caleb’s head. Caleb sat back so his bottom was resting on his heels and he breathed hard.

“Much better.” Solovyov said watching the boy’s chest and stomach heave. His eyes fell down to the faded jeans Caleb wore and noticed the growing bulge. Rising from his chair he snapped his fingers. “Stand.”

Caleb rose to his feet and gasped when the Russians arm wrapped around his waist and pulled him closer. Caleb’s naked arm pressed against Solovyov’s blue dress shirt and their bodies met in what was almost a right angle. One of the Russian’s strong hands stroked the skin on his back and then moved down to cup an ass cheek. A half smile spread over his lips as Caleb moaned softly and tugged at his belt. The Russian, now the one to be unbuttoning Caleb’s jeans, slid his hand into the boy’s boxers and pulled out his impressive erection. He was only slightly smaller than Solovyov himself, who was proud to be on the larger side of average.

He took the needy cock on his hand and gently stroked it. He ran his hand over the skin and felt Caleb’s weight pressed against him. Caleb thrust his hips in to Solovyov’s hand who laughed. He steadied Caleb’s hips with his free hand and clicked his tongue.

“Patience. I move at speed I want,” he said and Caleb stayed still. Solovyov moved his body to stand in front of Caleb and quickened his pace. Caleb’s hand gripped at the Russian’s biceps and pressed his forehead to the strong chest, looking down at his cock. “That feel good?”

Solovyov loved the power he felt when he had a young, aroused boy clinging to him and he couldn’t remember having one so willing and adorable in his office, or anywhere for that matter. Caleb seemed to be experiencing a whole new kind of pleasure and it almost brought Solovyov’s own cock stirring back to life. He stroked Caleb’s hip gently as he prepared him for orgasm.

“Oh fuck,” Caleb whispered. “Mr. Solovyov.”

“Yes, Caleb?”

“It feels so good.”  
His grip on Solovyov’s arms tightened and he pressed himself closer to the hard body.

“Haven’t you been jerked off before?” He asked, his lips now right about Caleb’s ear.

“My hand doesn’t feel this good.” He murmured.

“What about boy you sucked off?” His hand slowed but his grip tightened and Caleb moaned.

“He wouldn’t touch me. Please Sir,” He said and Solovyov picked up his pace, giving him fast, hard, and even strokes. Caleb came with a breathy moan and leaned against Solovyov for support.

“Did you enjoy that?” The Russian asked and Caleb nodded.

“Yes. Thank you, sir.”

“Put your clothing back on.”

Caleb grabbed his clothing and watched as Solovyov slipped his jacket back on and sat down. “Sit down,” He said and Caleb sat back down on the chair, licking his lips. Solovyov opened a drawer with a stony face. If someone were to walk in no one would know he had sucked been sucked off by the boy in front of him. He pulled out a phone and held it out to Caleb.

“Call him.”

“Who?” Caleb asked, confused.

“Who? Slatkin,” he snapped and Caleb reached forward to grab the phone. He felt his fingers slide over Solovyov’s and he blushed deeply, looking down at his lap.

“I can use my own phone,” Caleb offered.

“This line is restricted and protected. Now call.”

He punched the buttons on the phone and held it to his ear.

“Hey this is Gerry I need to talk to a man about some kittens I got,” he said and glanced up at Solovyov. He shrugged at the frown on Solovyov’s face. “Yeah, one sec.” He pulled the phone from his ear and covered the speaker.

“What do I say?” he asked, addressing Solovyov.

“Tell him you have pictures and want to set up meeting,” he answered and Caleb nodded.

“Yeah, yeah I got the kittens. They are very cute kittens. I can bring them to you when-Yeah? Ok. Yeah, kittens at 30th and 5th at the pizzeria. Ok. Bye-“ He said and frowned. “bastard hung up on me.”

“30th and 5th at pizzeria. There is no such place.”

“He means Brooker Street in apartment 14. That’s where they told me all our meetings would be. 30th and 5th just means I need to be there at 5:30.”

Solovyov nodded and picked up a phone that was on his desk.

“Alexander please come here.” He said and hung back up. “Go unlock the door.”

Caleb stood and went for the lock. No sooner did he twist the bolt back did the door open and he was face to face with Alexander. He stepped out of the way and the young man stepped inside.

“Yes, Sir?”

“Take him around, let him take some pictures. Harmless pictures that look important. I trust your judgment.” he said reaching into the bottom drawer of his desk. He pulled out a black case. Caleb craned his neck to get a look inside as the Russian unzipped the case. He opened it and Caleb nearly fell over. He walked over to the desk and the Russian smiled. “Judging by the look on your face I did well?”

“Holy shit,” Caleb said and reached for the camera. Four different lenses lay inside and Caleb didn’t know where to start. He bounced on the balls of his feet and smiled like an idiot but he couldn’t help it. “This is mine?”

“If you perform well,” He said a twinkle in his eyes.

Caleb began rattling off Camera terms that the other two did not understand. He stopped when he saw the look the other two were giving him and he blushed.

“Sorry,” He mumbled and looked back at the camera.

“Both of you go,” he said and turned to his computer with the same blank look on his face he always had. Alexander motioned for Caleb to grab the case and he did, greedily wrapping it in his arms like a child on Christmas. Just as the door was about to shut he turned his head and mumbled a “thank you, Mr. Solovyov.”

Out in the hall Caleb followed Alexander still smiling about his camera. When he looked at Alexander’s back a disturbing thought crossed his mind and he jogged a few paces to walk next to him.

“You never told me if you’ve sucked his cock yet.” Caleb said Alexander bristled.

“I don’t feel the need to acknowledge that question… and I’m not gay.”

“Well excuse me. You’ve never thought of giving him a blow job?” Caleb asked.

“He’s my uncle.”

“You blew your uncle!” Caleb yelled and Alexander held his hands up in anger.

“That’s disgusting!” Alexander yelled and Caleb laughed feeling a bit better.

“So you don’t mind if I do then?” He asked and Alexander scowled.

“I don’t want to hear about my uncle’s sex life.” Alexander said and Caleb laughed and slapped him on the back.

“I’m just messing with you.” Caleb said. “Let’s go get some kittens.” He said and smiled at Alexander’s confusion.

_  
Caleb stood next to Alexander as he focused his lens. Nick was across the club talking to another man when Caleb snapped the picture. The bouncer was oblivious to the picture being taken and it actually turned out quite well. Im fact, he looked quite sinister in it and Caleb thought Slatkin would definitely like it.

“Why are we on the other side of the club?” Alexander asked in annoyance and Caleb frowned and looked at his picture.

“I think it would be kinda suspicious if I took pictures you aren’t supposed to know I have less than ten feet away from them,” Caleb explained and aimed his camera again. He took a few shots and then nodded. “Ok. Next spot.”

Alexander lead him through the crowd and into the lobby. Caleb stopped him and snapped some pictures of the exits and entrances. He got a few different angles, checked them, tried to find a spot better for lighting, and then moved on.

“Are you going to go into journalism?”

“No,” Caleb said and looked up at the ceiling. When he spotted a sprinkler, and fire alarm and snapped a few more pictures. “I’m an artist. I want to open my own studio. Can I get some out by the alley?”

Alexander nodded, motioning for him to walk out a side door. They stepped off into the side alley he had seen Petrov in a few days earlier.

“Ok, stay right there. Face the wall,” Caleb ordered and after a moment’s hesitation Alexander obeyed.

Caleb jogged across the street, and tried to get some less than desirable angles so it looked more believable. He bumped into a few people walking on the sidewalk but ignored them. He did not see the angry glares he got, but instead focused on his camera. He raised the camera to his eye and aimed.

“Ok now turn toward the club and look up!” He called across the street and Alexander did. After he got the shots he wanted he crossed the street again, looking at the pictures.

“Where now?”

“Does this alley turn in back there?” He asked motioning down the alley.

“Yeah.”

“Can I go down there?” He asked and Alexander nodded. Alexander followed him down the alley. Caleb spotted a door and looked back to Alexander. “Can I take a picture of this?”  
Alexander nodded. Caleb was beginning to discover that Alexander was not a man of many words. He took a few pictures and froze, a frown covering his face. He moved forward slightly and looked at the ground.

“Is that blood?” He asked and looked over at Alexander. His face was impassive. “Oookaaay.”

Caleb went to take a picture but the camera was blocked by Alexander and he pushed it downward.

“You can’t take a picture of that,” Alexander said firmly and Caleb pulled his camera back defensivly.

“Why not?”

“Because you can’t” he said and Caleb frowned.

“Fine. Few more shots and I’ll be done.” He said and went to take some shots of a dumpster. He smiled and spoke as he took a picture. “Any bodies in there?”

Alexander didn’t answer. His shot suddenly got darker and he took the camera away to look at Alexander who was next to him, looking curiously at the camera. Caleb had enjoyed teasing Alexander, but he was not surprised that he was Solovyov’s nephew, but he looked more like a son. They had almost identical features, separated only by years on earth.

“Do you mind?” Caleb asked him with some annoyance. There was nothing more annoying than someone blocking your light. “You’re blocking my light.”  
Alexander looked toward the light behind him and took a few steps back.

“Alright I think I’m done,” Caleb said and then looked over at Alexander who had his hands shoved in his pockets, looking bemused. “But, I think I should get one of you naked. Just so...hey where you going!”

He called after Alexander as he turned and began to walk away. Caleb jogged to catch up with him. “It was a joke, after seeing your uncle naked man I don’t think you could match up.”

Alexander began to walk faster, attempting to get away from the obnoxious kid before he punched him between the eyes as he wanted too. Caleb quickened his stride in order to keep up, but Alexander’s long legs had the advantage.

“Hey, just take my phone number OK, give it to your uncle.”

He had to grab Alexander to keep him from moving into the club.

“Let me go,” Alexander snapped and Caleb held his hands up.

“I didn’t mean that the way you took it. I just need to know when he wants me to come back to the club.”

“Fine, give me your number,” Alexander conceded and Caleb read it to him while Alexander put it into his phone. “There.”

“See you later,” Caleb said and Alexander said nothing. He walked back into the club without another word. Caleb sighed and made his way back to his car.

When he finally unlocked the door to his dorm he felt like he could fall asleep standing. He opened the door to find Scott sitting down, facing the door, dead asleep on his chair. Caleb shook his head and gently shook Scott’s shoulder.

“Scott, wake up.” He whispered.

“Caleb? Are you ok?” He asked as he slowly woke up, rubbing his eyes.

“No those mobsters popped me.” He said and his eyes flew open.

“That’s not funny.” He said and rose from the chair. “I’m going to bed.” 

Caleb smiled and through his coat on the bed before removing his shirt. Once he was down in his boxers and in bed he sighed. He fell asleep with the feeling of strong hands gripping his hair.


	6. Chapter Six

When he got to the apartment Caleb zipped his jacket up to his neck. His hands quivered slightly, and the only thing that kept him going through with the meeting was the money, and thinking about Solovyov’s disappointment. He found himself craving the Russian’s approval, and he knew that if he did well today Solovyov would certainly be pleased with him. He wanted to see the pleased smile on the Russian’s smug face, and feel his strong hand gently petting his head.

He had the manila envelope under his arm protectively and he pushed the door open with his shoulder. He used the stairs like he had been told and knocked three times on apartment 415. His stomach clenched painfully as he waited for the door to open. He managed to keep himself looking outwardly calm, but he suddenly felt nervous about this meeting now. He had no idea what Slatkin might be capable of doing, and if he were to ever find out that Caleb was now working for Solovyov, and by extension, Petrov himself, he doubted he would get come out of the apartment in one piece, quite literally.

When the door opened he stepped inside silently handing the manila folder over without a word. His coat was taken off and hands were promptly patting him down. As the hands moved up his legs and over his chest he squirmed. The man who did it was mean looking, and was excessively rough when he squeezed his balls. Caleb winced slightly, but tried his best to keep his face neutral. It was clearly not a sexual touch, but one that said I don’t like you, and if I wanted to, I could kill you right now. When they stopped he was told to sit at the table.

“He’s clean,” A man said and a door on the far side of the room opened and Slatkin appeared. He was dressed in black dress pants, a white shirt and a black blazer. He wore no tie and his white shirt was partially unbuttoned. His pale blue eyes were darting around at his body guards as he sat down and he smiled at Caleb. He was a handsome man, but Caleb thought, even more so now, that he was a slimy looking man. He was thin, with slick black hair and a serious countenance. On the outside, nothing stood out to suggest he was as big a creep as Caleb thought he was, but the feeling could not be shaken as Caleb watched him walk in.

He could not help but compare him to Solovyov and Petrov. Those men were just as despicable as Slatkin, but carried themselves with pride and grace. This man screamed thug. He might have been well dressed, but Caleb could see that if you could get past the surface there was nothing respectable about him. He was slimy, creepy, and made Caleb’s hair stand up on end in a way that even Petrov or Solovyov had not. When he turned to speak to Caleb, he showed off a toothy smile.

“Have my pictures?” His once thick Russian accent was now almost nonexistent. A man handed him the folder. He took them out and laid them flat on the table. His long, spider like fingers hovered over the pictures.

“Who is this?” He asked pointing to the picture of Nick he had taken.

“The bouncer.” Caleb said looking over at the photographs. Slatkin looked them over nodded.

“This is the back of the club?” He asked pointing to the ones from the alley.

“Yeah, the building is here, and then this alley comes down like this, and then the other meets this one at a right angle like this,” He explained, showing the Mob boss with his arms.

“Interesting,” he said and Caleb scratched his neck. He looked around the room, gathering as much information as he could. He tried to remember every detail.  
“Ok. Very good. Vasily the money. I want you to get more. Try to get them doing a transaction…something. Try to flip one of them…subtly. Ok?”

Caleb nodded. The Russian to Slatkin’s right counted out ten one hundred dollar bills and handed them to his boss, who handed them to Caleb.

“Remember, something with more substance next time. Try to get Solovyov with illegal substances in his hands.” Slatkin said rising, a warm smile on his thin lips. He turned without another word and exited the apartment, all of his men following suit.

Caleb waited a few moments before rising himself and making his way out of the apartment building. He had received a call from the club late last night telling him to return to Solovyov the moment he had his meeting. Once he got into his car he began driving toward the club, slightly nervous about talking to the Russian again. He hadn’t learned anything really, but had gotten a good look at everyone. Hopefully that would be enough.

He got to the club and waited outside. After a few moments a man in jeans and a t-shirt came to the door and let him in. He was brought to the main room. He still found it odd seeing the dance room during the day. The lack of strobe lights and hot sweaty bodies left the room looking bare and empty.

The man next to him motioned in front of him and Caleb spotted Solovyov on the other side of the room. He did not have his suit jacket on and instead stood in black pants, a white shirt and blue tie. His sleeves were rolled up and Caleb thought he was the most attractive looking man he had ever seen.

He slowly approached Solovyov who was behind the bar and looking at the beer dispensers. Caleb sat down at the bar, staring at the back of Solovyov’s head. He saw Solovyov squat down and open a cabinet where Caleb spotted Vodka, Gin, Rum and so on.

“Can I have a Screaming Orgasm?” He asked and Solovyov turned around and stood. He leaned forward on the bar and smiled. He looked good out of his suit and jacket and Caleb smiled at him softly. He could not remember ever meeting a better looking man.

“Here or in my office?” He teased and Caleb blushed. He wanted to reach out and run his hand over the perfectly clean shaven face. “Find anything out?”

“Not much,” Caleb said biting his tongue. “Slatkin told me specifically to get you handling drugs.” Solovyov frowned. “Other than that they didn’t tell me much.”

“I figured as much.” Solovyov said nodding. “The more you go back the more they will tell you.” He said and Caleb frowned. He didn’t want to go back. Slatkin creeped him out.

“Why is another Russian trying to move in on Petrov’s territory?” He asked. “Doesn’t Petrov usually treat new comers pretty well…as long as they are Russian?”

“Slatkin isn’t Russian,” Solovyov said and knelt back down to look at the bar supplies. “He’s Polish.”

“But his name is Russian,” Caleb said in confusion. He normally would not have known that, but he overheard someone talking about the origin of Slatkin’s name being Russian. He did not understand why they found the conversation amusing, but he had thought that automatically meant the man was Russian.

“His real name is Skrzypczak. No one could fucking pronounce it, so he took his mother’s name. Slatkinowski. Mr. Petrov only let’s Russians get to any level of authority in brotherhood, so he changed it to Russian name Slatkin. Petrov wouldn’t give him the time of day and so he, using all of our rejects, started up his own family. Relations have been…tense…ever since.”

“Tense? The media says it’s a full blown war.” Caleb said and Solovyov shook his head, standing and coming around the other side of the bar and standing near Caleb.

“If it were a war you’d be seeing a lot more deaths,” he said honestly. “Do you need more pictures?”

Caleb nodded, his face slightly pale.

“Don’t be scared,” Solovyov’s strong hand cupped Caleb’s cheek. “Although, you do look quite adorable when your lip trembles like that.” His cell phone began to ring and he took his hand away. “One moment.”

He stepped away from Caleb and put his free hand in his pockets. He was speaking in Russian and Caleb listened. His voice was so smooth and rich. As he watched the Russian speak he could not think of anything but having a serious make out session with the older man. So far he had only really kissed him a few times and it quickly turned into oral sex. Caleb wanted to really make out. Not many people were content with just kissing, but it was one of Caleb’s favorite things to do. He hoped that eventually, Solovyov would at some point indulge in a full blown make out session. When Solovyov finally hung up he looked back at Caleb.

“I have business to see too. Come back tonight. Around eleven,” he said and Caleb nodded. He got up off of his chair and was again amazed at how much taller Solovyov was than him. He looked up at the Russian who was reaching into his pocket and pulled out a small, black plastic comb. He ran it through his short auburn hair and made sure it was combed close to his head.

“Should I bring my camera?” he asked and Solovyov nodded.

“Yes. If we have time I will have you take pictures.”

“Have time? What are we going to do?” He asked and Solovyov smirked at him.

“Eleven o’clock.” He said and Caleb felt his face flush and he nodded.  
_  
Once again Alexander walked Caleb to Solovyov’s office. Neither spoke, Alexander seemed pre-occupied, and so Caleb decided not to push him tonight. When he entered the office Solovyov was counting money. Caleb shut the door behind him and without being asked, locked the door. When he looked back Solovyov had a small smile on his face. Caleb leaned against the door and watched Solovyov place bill after bill after bill down on the table. One he was done he pushed away from the desk and stood. He approached Caleb with the same soft smile on his face.

“Have a good day, today Caleb?” He asked and Caleb nodded.

“Yeah.” Caleb said looking up at Solovyov. The Russian moved closer to him and Caleb was pinned against the door by Solovyov’s hard, tall body.

“No camera?” He asked looking down at Caleb and seeing he had nothing in his hands.

“I didn’t think we were going to have time.” He breathed out moving his mouth closer to the Russians. The Russian hovered his mouth against Caleb’s a moment before he pressed his lips down on the younger man’s. He felt Caleb grip his lapel’s and pull him closer. He was impressed with the boy’s kissing abilities, and deepened the kiss. Solovyov grabbed onto Caleb’s hips and ground their hips together. Caleb moaned into his mouth and melted against the larger man. Solovyov brought his hands up to push Caleb’s jacket off his shoulders. Caleb didn’t protest when his jacket fell to the ground and the buttons of his shirt were being plucked at.

He felt the Russian’s tongue push into his mouth and he sucked on it greedily. Their tongues danced against each other and Caleb’s felt his face grow hot. He had made out with boyfriends before, but they were all his own age and size. He had never been able to enjoy the masterful, powerful touch of an older man. His shirt dropped to the floor and he jumped when he felt hands tugging at his belt.

“Wait,” Caleb murmured against Solovyov’s mouth but the Russian paid no attention. Once the belt was unbuckled Solovyov gave the jeans a yank over his hips.

“Kick them off… and your shoes,” Solovyov ordered and Caleb shook his head. No one had ever seen him naked before and he was suddenly self-conscious of his body. He stepped on his heels and kicked off his white shoes. The mobster’s hand ran gently over his chest and abdomen and Caleb felt his cock twitch. He wriggled out of his jeans but made no move to take off his boxers. He looked up at the older man who was gently running his hands over his shoulders and arms and bit his lip.

“You’re not done yet,” he said and Caleb opened his mouth but nothing came out. “Come now, I’ve jerked you off. I’ve had that cock in my hand, why so shy now?”  
Caleb chewed on his lips nervously. He had always thought he looked slightly awkward naked. That’s why he had never let any of his boyfriends see him naked before. He felt Solovyov’s fingers loop under the waistband of his boxers and he closed his eyes.

“I don’t like waiting. And I don’t like repeating myself,” he said firmly, running his fingers over the waistband. Caleb nodded, his whole body turning a slight pink tinge and he looped his own fingers in his boxers and pulled down. Hunched over, clumsily trying to get the boxers from around his ankles, he felt extremely vulnerable. Solovyov looked him over lazily, admiring the lean, smooth skin of the boy’s body. Caleb kept his eyes lowered, not wanting to meet the Russian’s eyes.

When he finally had the courage to look up he didn’t see disappointment, but a small satisfied smile on his face. His hand gently glided from the side of Caleb’s ribs, down over his hips, back and over the swell of his ass before resting on the back of his thighs.

“So beautiful,” Solovyov said gently and looked down at Caleb’s hairless chest. He took Caleb in his hand, squeezing and earning a small cry from the pink lips. The feel of Solovyov’s hand on him, and the fabric of his suit brushing against his skin were amazing. Caleb was more excited now than he had ever been before, with any of his boyfriends. Caleb brought a hand to rest on Solovyov’s shoulders. He ran his hands across the broad shoulders, feeling the smooth material beneath his hands.

“I never thought business suits were so sexy,” Caleb breathed as Solovyov leisurely stroked his hand along the length of Caleb’s straining erection. Caleb looked up at the thoughtful expression on his face and licked his lips. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking…should I fuck you against the door, or on my desk, or in my chair…” He said and Caleb’s breath caught in his throat. Caleb shook his head.

“I don’t want to do that.”

His voice came out shaky, now a mixture of fear and arousal.

“Why not?” Solovyov asked with a knowing smile, running a hand through Caleb’s blonde hair.

“I’m scared,” Caleb said and Solovyov chuckled.

“That’s no concern of mine.” He said and he felt Caleb stiffen.

“I-"

“That was a joke,” Solovyov said shaking his head. “Apparently I am not very funny. Bend over my desk.”

Caleb’s mouth hung open and he searched for words.

“I won’t penetrate you,” Solovyov said and gently nudged Caleb toward the desk. Caleb moved to the desk and placed his palms on the flat desk surface. Solovyov flicked at his elbows and Caleb lowered his chest down to the cool surface. His chest was pressed down onto a pen and a piece of paper Caleb vaguely thought was written in Russian. He felt the Russian’s hands run from his shoulders, down his smooth back and to his exposed bottom. His hands ran over the smooth white skin of Caleb’s legs before settling once again on his bottom.

“Are you clean Caleb?” Solovyov asked and Caleb turned to look behind him.

“What do you mean?” He asked.

“Have you any diseases?” He asked gently separated Caleb’s ass cheeks.

“Oh. I don’t think so. I’ve only every sucked off one guy, and we were nineteen at the time. I’ve never been tested though.”

“I get tested once a year. I’m clean,” Solovyov informed him and Caleb heard the rustle of his pants. He felt the head of Solovyov’s hard erection on his bottom and jumped violently, trying to pull away from the desk. Solovyov pressed down hard on Caleb’s desk pressing him back down. “I won’t penetrate I promise.”

His member slid between his two ass cheeks. He pushed on the side of Caleb’s bottom, pressing the warm, plump flesh against his member. He pushed his hips forward and upward, sliding his hard erection against the hot flesh. Caleb felt the hot, hard flesh, sliding over the sensitive skin and felt his cock throb. “You have the cutest little ass cheeks.”  
“Thank you, Sir.” Caleb said and he shuddered against the desk and the man moved against him. He felt Solovyov’s balls rest on top of his ass as his cock slid up and onto his back. Solovyov gently pulled his hips back, allowing his member to slide back down and fit snugly between Caleb’s asscheeks. Solovyov’s hands were still on him, placing more pressure on the cheeks that surrounded him.

“I would love to push my cock inside that little asshole right now, Solovyov said, removing a hand and placing his palm on Caleb’s back. “I wonder what noises you would make while I fucked you.”

He leaned forward, momentarily pausing his movements. His suit pressed against Caleb’s naked back and he sucked gently on the top shell of his ear. “Are you a screamer or a moaner?”

He resumed his movements only this time with more force. Caleb pressed his bottom closer to Solovyov as he felt the hot flesh move against him. Solovyov felt himself nearing climax and stepped back, standing Caleb up. He fisted Caleb’s member and brought Caleb’s hand to his. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment when he felt the cool skin slide against his cock. He moved his hand against Caleb briskly, pausing at the head to gently messaging the sensitive skin. Caleb pressed his body against Solovyov, trying to get as close to him as he could. Solovyov came first, his hot cum spurting over Caleb’s wrist. When Caleb’s hand fell away he pressed closer to Solovyov and bucked his hips against the strong hand. He wet his lips and pressed his nose into Solovyov’s jacket, breathing in his scent. The strong scent of masculinity filled his senses and he moved his mouth up to offer the Russian a kiss.

The Russian leaned down and placed his lips down on Caleb’s. The kiss was gentle, not matching the rough, fast pumping of his hand. Caleb came with a soft cry and slumped against Solovyov. The Russian held up the smaller body for a few moments and let him rest his face on his broad chest. Solovyov looked down at him with a soft smile on his face.  
“Wasn’t that lovely?” He asked and Caleb nodded.

“That was good.” Caleb murmured and stood back. “Can I get dressed now?” he asked pulling back and Solovyov nodded and released him. He went back to his desk and sat down, placing himself back in his pants. Caleb slipped on his clothing, all the while fully aware of the Russians hard eyes on him. Solovyov watched the lithe body slide into the clothing and leaned back in his chair.

“How much did the Pole pay you?” Solovyov asked and Caleb looked up.

“Slatkin?”

“Yes.”

“A Grand.” Caleb said putting on his shoes. Solovyov nodded and picked up the stack of bills he had been counting when Caleb walked in.

“Here is two.” He said and Caleb went and sat down across from Solovyov, counting the money he was handed.

“Fuck me.” Caleb murmured counting the money.

“You wouldn’t let me, remember.” Solovyov said and Caleb laughed.

“See that was funny,” Caleb said and shoved the bills in his pocket. Solovyov looked down at his desk and nodded slowly. “Do you want me to leave?”

“No. I am thinking.” He said and looked at his papers. “I want you to take this to Slatkin. It’s a paper I drew up this afternoon. It’s fake, obviously. Petrov signed off on it. Tell him you found it in my office.”

Caleb looked at the paper he was handed. It was all in Cyrillic.

“How am I supposed to explain being in your office?”

“Tell them you were sucking my cock.” He said and Caleb laughed and looked down at the paper then back up at Solovyov. He was greeted with a smooth, neutral expression. 

Caleb’s lips parted and his smile dropped.

“You aren’t kidding.”

“Of course not,” he said. “I like the idea of you telling them you were on your knees for me.”

Caleb’s face was on fire.

“So I tell them I’m blowing you, and stole this from your office.”

Solovyov nodded.

“What is it?”

“It’s a paper admitting to drug trafficking.” Solovyov crossed a leg and rested a hand on his knee.

“What if they go to the cops?” Caleb asked and the Russian shook his head.

“It never comes out and says its drugs, but Slatkin will understand,” he said and Caleb looked over the paper again. “No matter how long you stare at it you will not be able to read it.”

Solovyov smiled. Caleb looked up and blushed.

“I didn’t bring my camera,” Caleb told him. “Should I come back tomorrow to get pictures?”

The hopefulness in Caleb’s voice caused Solovyov’s spent cock to twitch.

“Not tomorrow.” He said. Not only did he not want to seem too anxious for the boy, he knew Nick was running back to Petrov and telling him the amount of time he was spending with him. He did not know if Petrov would be angry with Solovyov making use of the boy. He himself was known, quite publicly, to have a young boy, just over eighteen of his own. He did not think Petrov would not begrudge him a boy of his own. Petrov, although condescending and cold to Solovyov, always seemed to feel some type of camaraderie with Solovyov. It was difficult to find other gay men in the Russian mob. Most felt it would emasculate them in the eyes of others. Petrov had never suffered from this, and neither had Solovyov. They were just as feared as the straightest man in the Mafia.

He was however worried that Petrov would think his sexual activities with Caleb would interfere with his business. One thing Petrov did not like was someone messing with his business…that and the boy he always had with him. But Solovyov didn’t blame him. He would never say this to Petrov’s face, at the risk of being castrated, but that boy he had was certainly worth killing for. He was one of the most adorable young men he had ever seen; perhaps not as adorable as the one sitting in front of him however.

“Come on Tuesday.”

“I have class Wednesday morning. I can’t be out to late,” Caleb said and shrunk into his chair at the stony glare he received from Solovyov.

“Wednesday, then.” Solovyov replied dismissively, and picked up his pen.

“Ok. Yes, sir,” he said and stood. “I can come tomorrow though.”

His voice was almost desperate.

“Nyet.” Solovyov said shortly. “Wednesday. I have things to do tomorrow.”

He looked up at Caleb who was buttoning his jacket.

“Ok. Thanks for the money,” Caleb said and unlocked the door.

“Thanks for the hand job.” He heard Solovyov say as he shut the door. He walked down the hall with a smile on his face.


	7. Chapter Seven

Caleb sat at his desk looking over his photographs. His portfolio was nearly finished, but he was struggling with what to add next. He had pictures of everyday life, nature, architecture, even food, but he only had room for a few more pictures and he was worried about the balance he had. His professor was obsessed with balance. Balance this, balance that. Caleb didn’t think it was that important. He just wanted to put in the best photographs, regardless of their subject matter. He was selecting his final pictures when Scott came out of the bathroom.

“Nice to finally see you working,” Scott said as he put on his jacket.

“It’s due tomorrow,” Caleb mumbled absentmindedly, looking at a picture of an old woman feeding pigeons he took at Central Park.

“If you had done the work when you were supposed to, you would have been able to come out with me tonight,” Scott said heading for the door. It did not take a genius to figure out that Scott was angry with him. He could practically hear the “I told you so” coming from his lips.

“You’re not my mother,” Caleb snapped and Scott laughed walking out the door. In truth, he’d rather have Scott, as nagging as he was, as his mother. He was at least supportive. His mother hadn’t cared all that much when he came out that he was gay. She had two other sons she seemed to like much more anyway.

“I’ll still have my grandchildren.” She said dismissively. His father had said nothing, but patting his shoulder gently, giving silent support. Everything about that man was silent. It was a rare occasion when Benjamin Reese spoke. His mother even went as far as to say she probably wouldn’t have liked Caleb’s wife and family that much anyway, and so the fact that he wouldn’t have children didn’t bother her. Caleb didn’t think it was the right time to tell her he still expected to have a child, one way or another.

No it wasn’t that he was gay that she was bothered. It, believe it or not, was in change in major. He was always a smart kid. He was in all the Advanced Placement sciences, physics, chemistry, Biology. He was in advanced levels of math and took a few college math courses his senior year. When he told her he was changing his major from Biochemistry to photography he head nearly exploded. His father sat in his chair like always; sipping a beer and watching the scene unfold with lazy eyes.

No son of hers was going to be a photographer, she said. She proceeded to list off all the great achievements in his pre-med and pre-law brothers had accomplished in their years as undergraduates. Caleb tried to explain he hated science, and was driven to taking pictures, enjoyed the capturing of a moment and the fun you could have playing with the lighting and resolution and angles. His mother didn’t understand. Instead she berated her husband for buying Caleb a camera on his seventeenth birthday and for not buying him a new car like she told him too. She seemed to forget the part that they had gotten him a car along with the camera and that to the Reese’s, the money the camera cost was pocket change.

Caleb left that night. He returned to his dorm and hadn’t gone home since. He was informed a few days later his parents were no longer paying for tuition. He went to the dean of NYU and asked for a few weeks’ time to come up with some money for payments. He had agreed. He still had no idea if he would be able to pay the fifty thousand a year tuition fee. Once he switched majors he lost his scholarship.

He wasn’t totally cut off from his family thought. The calls he got from his brothers kept him from totally falling apart. They had always been close, and they risked hell to stay in contact with him. They even offered to help with his tuition. Of course Caleb couldn’t accept. The two of them were in no shape or form able to help him when they would be up to their necks in debt once leaving school.

He sighed as he made his final selections. He chose a picture of the old woman feeding the pigeons, a tree, a homeless man in the Bronx (that was difficult to get) and a sail boat docking at the peer. He thought they were pretty impressive pictures, but his professors were sticklers.

He slid the pictures in, making sure they were secure before shutting the cover. He placed it at the corner of his desk and leaned back with a sigh. He was going to see Solovyov tomorrow and felt desire churn in his stomach. He figured tomorrow would be mainly about work, but he certainly hoped that he would be able to spend more…intimate time with the Russian.

He was taken away from his thoughts when the phone rang. He reached for his cell phone and looked at the caller ID. It said restricted and Caleb hovered his thumb over the send button. He usually ignored restricted numbers, but with more and more mobsters needing to get in contact with him, he didn’t have much of a choice.

He pressed his thumb down to connect the call. He held the phone to his ear and silently hoped he would hear Solovyov on the other end. Unfortunately he didn’t.

“Hello?” He asked and waited.

“Caleb Reese?” A gravelly voice on the other end said.

“Yes?”

“Do you have any more Kittens?”

“Not yet, but I got a letter you might wanna see,” he said and bit his lip. “I’m going to the club tomorrow to get some more pictures.”

“Ok. Slatkin wants to meet you at the pizzeria at eleventh and fifteen on Friday.” The voice said and then the call disconnected. Caleb sighed and placed the phone down on the table. He stepped away from his desk and climbed up onto his bed. He stared at the ceiling, trying his best to fall asleep. He had been missing out a lot on sleep the last couple days and wanted to get a good night’s sleep for his next class, but he tossed and turned.

He kept feeling the Russian’s hand in his hair or on his skin. He could smell the strong scent of him and his cologne. He wondered for a moment what kind of aftershave he wore. It had spelled to good when his lips were pressed against him and Caleb could smell the scent forming from his strong jaw. Reaching into his boxers Caleb gripped his growing erection and slowly pumped his hand up and down. It took him longer cum than it usually did when he played with himself. His hand just couldn’t compare to the Russian’s hand on him.

His orgasm, while nice, was not nearly as intense as it had been with the Russian’s strong, hard body standing near him, his strong scent wafting into his nostrils. Caleb came with a soft grunt and, ignoring the gobs of cum now covering his boxers, he rolled over and fell asleep.   
_

Caleb’s professor looked over his portfolio with approving nods. He would sometimes point at something in the photographs and nod with more effort. “Yes, yes,” He would murmur as he looked at Caleb’s work.

“This is very good work Caleb.” He said when he came to the last photograph. The last of his classmates were filing out of the room and Caleb stood in front of his professor anxiously. “Excellent work. You have one more year?”

“Well, my first three years I was studying bio-chem. So –”

“Oh, yes that’s right, that’s right. You are planning on graduating at the end of the year?”

“I was hoping to finish my photography major. I want to graduate with a degree.” Caleb answered running a finger over the leather cover of his portfolio. “It’s a money issue though.”

“You were here on an academic scholarship?” He loved his professor, he was a very kind man, but he hated his habitual tendency to phrase his questions like a statement.

“Yes, I lost it when I switched majors. I was given my scholarship by the science department…” He trailed off and rolled back and forth on the balls of his feet.

“I want you to apply for a photography scholarship at the end of the year. I will write you a recommendation,” he said and Caleb beamed.

“Oh thank you sir!” Caleb said, a large smile spreading over his lips.

“You really are quite talented,” his professor said again.

“Thank you Dr. Brindenberg. I love it,” he said nervously running a knuckle over his portfolio.

“Alright, you start the scholarship application online, send me a request for a recommendation, and I will get that written as soon as possible.”

“Thank you very much Doctor,” Caleb said and they shook hands.

“Have a good day, Caleb.” He said and Caleb could have skipped out of the classroom. 

–

When he stepped into the office Solovyov was on the phone. He leaned back, his feet up on his desk, and his suit jacket unbuttoned. He smiled softly as he spoke, slowly, and smoothly in Russian. He motioned to the chair across his desk and Caleb went to sit down. When Solovyov ended the call he turned to his computer screen.

“After you go around with Alexander I want you to wait until club closes. I want you to take pictures of club empty.”

Caleb nodded but didn’t say anything. After a few seconds of silence he spoke.

“Should I take some pictures of your office? I could say I got it after we uh…you know.” Caleb said. 

“Know what?” Solovyov asked with a blank expression, still staring at the screen.

“You know, did the nasty.” Caleb said and he thought he saw his lips tilt upward.

“No. My office is private. I don’t want Slatkin knowing what it looks like.”

“Why not?” Caleb asked. The office, while well-furnished and sleek there was nothing extraordinary about it.

“This is my personal area,” he said motioning around the room with his arms. “I don’t want everyone and his uncle to know what it looks like. I spend more time here than I do in my house.”

“Why?”

“Questions.” Solovyov said in monotone. He reached for the phone and hit a number. He paused a moment, glancing at Caleb. “Alexander, come to my office.”

He hung up the phone.

“You can come back to my office when you are done or stay in the club.” Caleb watched his jaw clench and nodded.

“You’re in a bad mood when I’m not sucking your dick,” Caleb said and stood up. Solovyov smiled and leaned back in his chair, glancing up at Caleb. Alexander walked in and stood by the door.

“Could you please take Mr. Reese around to take some more photographs?” he asked and Alexander nodded.

“Yes uncle grish-Sir,” he said and looked at Caleb. Caleb walked over of the door, turning just in time to see Solovyov looking at him as the shut behind him. Alexander was sullen. He didn’t seem any happier than the last time Caleb had seen him.

“You seem upset. Would you like to tell me about your feelings?” Caleb asked and Alexander scowled. 

“No.”

Caleb shrugged and removed his camera from his case. He looked over the different lenses and picked the most suitable. Alexander waited until Caleb nodded and opened the door to the club. The music was loud and the club was crowded. They squeezed through the crowd, Caleb wrapping his arms around his camera like it were a baby, protecting it from the thrashing crowd of dancers. Alexander led him to the entrance of the club, where the occasional person was still trickling in.

“Take your picture in here tonight,” Alexander said and Caleb nodded. As Caleb began focusing for a picture of the offices that lined the hallway Alexander began to speak.

“You know, I’ve been working here for about a year and a half. I’m twenty four years old. I work hard, and the manager is my uncle, you think I wouldn’t be watching the door all night.”

“Well isn’t –”

“I mean I want something more exciting you know?”

“Yeah I guess but –”

“And Uncle Grisha says I need to prove myself. I have proven myself. If he wasn’t my uncle he would have moved me up six months ago.”

“He doesn’t want to appear as –”

“It’s my mother’s fault you know. She doesn’t want me working here in the first place, and so she calls him all the time, at work, to find out if I’m ok! Like he would let me into any of the good stuff, anyway.”

“Perhaps –”

“Not only that, but I want to get more involved in the brotherhood you know. I’m full blooded Russian. I might have been born here, but I’m Russian and I could get to a high spot in Petrov’s family.”

“Maybe he just doesn’t –”

“Not that it matters. My mother wouldn’t have any of it anyway. She doesn’t like the fact that uncle Grisha is in organized crime. She wants to be a ‘legitimate immigrant family’ as she says.” Caleb had given up speaking and Alexander continued. “I guess that’s how he’s making up getting into the mafia. Not letting me in. She even cries when she talks about it! I feel bad and all, I really do, but I can’t not go after what I want because my mother thinks I’m going to get killed or arrested you know?” Finally he paused and Caleb nodded as he took a picture of the ceiling.

“That sucks,” Caleb said. He gave up trying to give any advice. He turned to look at him and Alexander was looking at him grimly.

“Right?” He sighed and sat down on a chair against the wall. His shoulders were sagged and he looked defeated. “I don’t know what to do. This is boring.”

“Have you talked to him?” Caleb asked, meaning Solovyov.

“He won’t listen to me.” Alexander said and Caleb nodded. “Bet Slatkin would move me up.”

Caleb felt uncomfortable with the comment and just nodded.

“I wouldn’t ever betray my family.” Alexander snapped when he saw the look on Caleb’s face. “I’m just venting.”

“Vent away.”

“Let’s go outside.”

When they got outside Caleb took some pictures of the outside of the building,

“You know I think that Slatkin wants pictures with a bit more substance,” Caleb told him as they walked around the side of the building.

“I heard Mr. Solovyov speaking to Mr. Petrov,” he said no longer referring to him as ‘Uncle Grisha’. He seemed to have his composure back. “I think they are worried that if Slatkin got pictures of any narcotics or dealings he’d send them to the police to get us investigated.”

“Oh,” Caleb said and remembered how Slatkin had said he wanted pictures with Solovyov with actual narcotics in his hands. Alexander and Caleb both looked toward the entrance of the club. Shouts could be heard and soft bangs of bodies being shoved into walls.

“Don’t take any pictures until I get back. Stay here,” Alexander said and dashed to the front of the club. Caleb walked along the alley way, turning around the corner and walked to the back club entrance. He spotted the dumpster and looked behind his shoulder before approaching. Placing his fingers on the cover he checked behind him again, before slowly lifting the lid. He wasn’t sure what he expected, but he braced himself for anything. Body limbs, bags of cocaine…anything.

He swung the cover up and looked inside. He saw plain white trash bags, cigarette butts from when workers when on breaks and beer cans.

“Expected bodies?”

Caleb jumped and turned around. Alexander was smiling. “We aren’t that dumb. Of course I wouldn’t know would I? No one tells me anything around here,” Alexander added bitterly.

“I think I have what I need until Solovyov takes me around after closing,” Caleb said and Alexander nodded.

“You want to stay in the club or go back to Solovyov. I can watch your camera if you go into the club.”

Caleb thought. He had never had the chance to actually dance in this club. And the guys who came here were cute and a lot of them had seemed interested in him. Any other time he would have jumped at the chance to hang out in there. But he paused a moment and thought.

“Can you bring me back to Solovyov?”

 

_

Caleb walked into the office and smiled at Solovyov. The Russian was once again on the phone only this time his conversation seemed to be more business. Caleb sat down at the desk and waited for him to get off the phone. Solovyov sat stiffly at the desk and stared at the wall over Caleb’s head. His voice was stiff and strained as he spoke. He hung up the phone and sighed, some color returning to his face.

“Get some good shots?” He asked looking at his monitor and Caleb nodded.

“I don’t think Slatkin will be happy with them though. I think he wants something with more substance,” Caleb said and Solovyov nodded.

“Yes, I’ll get you something good tonight. But that letter will help no?”

“Oh yeah. I forgot about that,” he said and looked over Solovyov’s suit. Solovyov said nothing, but watched Caleb look him over with a soft, arrogant smile.

“I like suits,” Caleb said with a smile and Solovyov crooked his finger at him. Caleb walked over to him and fell to his knees with Solovyov’s order. The Russian fisted the back of Caleb’s blonde hair and brought his face to his groin. Caleb pressed his face to Solovyov’s inner thigh and rubbed his cheek against the dark gray material.

Solovyov moved his hands to his belt when there was a loud knock on the door. Caleb jumped to his feet and Solovyov dropped his hands looking annoyed.

“What?” he snapped and the door opened. Solovyov immediately moved to his feet and straightened his suit. “Mr. Petrov.”

Mr. Petrov stepped into the room and looked at Caleb.His eyes slowly ran down the length of Caleb’s body as he appraised him.

“Had I known you were entertaining I would have called,” he said with a half-smile. His voice was silky and Caleb’s tongue darted out to lick his lips. “Are you our photographer?”

“Yes,” Caleb nearly whispered and looked toward Solovyov.

Petrov nodded and walked to the white chair Caleb had previously been seated in. He sat down, crossing his legs, and making himself at home. He looked at Caleb as he unbuttoned and rebuttoned his shirt cuffs. “I must say I had no idea you liked them so young, Grigori.”

“We were simply discussing his next meeting with Slatkin” Solovyov said sitting down.

“Well,” Petrov said looking from Caleb to Solovyov. “You are a fool if you do not take advantage of the situation. What a sweet boy he is.” Caleb’s face flushed and he looked at Solovyov who looked thoroughly uncomfortable. “Have I told you about my Mischa?”

“I met him some weeks back,” Solovyov reminded him and Petrov nodded. He looked back to Caleb and smiled.

“We have some very important business to see too.” Petrov said and Caleb nodded. “If you wouldn’t mind stepping outside.”

Caleb began to make his way to the door when Solovyov spoke.

“Don’t leave the club,” he ordered and Caleb looked back at him. He nodded and glanced one last time at Petrov as he shut the door. Just before the door was about to click closed he heard them fall into a conversation in Russian. Standing outside were three large men that Caleb hurried passed. They eyed him curiously, all toting guns, and Caleb was sure this was Petrov’s personal security. Ever since their most recent problems with Slatkin, Petrov had upped his security. His paranoia had grown as well, something that caused a considerable amount of contention between him and Michael at times.

Once Caleb was around the corner he sat down against the wall. He didn’t feel like going into the club and he certainly didn’t want to stand near those scary looking Russians.

_

Caleb sat down at the bar and looked around at the dance floor. About an hour had passed and Caleb got up from the hallway and wandered into the club. He saw a lot of good looking guys and considered approaching some of them. He found himself looking for those who were older than him and bit his lip. None of them were as good looking as Solovyov, and he wasn’t the type, being a virgin and all, to mess around with more than one person at a time, but things had been getting rather arousing in Solovyov’s office and Caleb was still pretty turned on.

“Can I get you anything?” The bar tender asked. His shirt was off, revealing hard abs and rippling muscles. He leaned his hands on the bar and waited for Caleb’s answer.

“Screwdriver,” he said and the bartender grabbed a glass.

“Can I see your ID?” Caleb pulled out his new license and held it out. He hated looking so young. It was handed back to him and his drink was made. He downed the glass and placed it down. He had no idea how long Petrov would be in Solovyov’s office and the club didn’t close until two. He ordered another drink and a man in his early twenties sat down next to him.

“Hey,” he said and Caleb turned to look at him. He was handsome, but not his type even before he had met Solovyov.

“Hey,” Caleb replied and smiled softly, but he truly was not interested in flirting.

“I’m Jonathon,” the man said and Caleb swiveled in his chair to look at him.

“Caleb,” he said in turn and they both shook hands.

“You need something stronger than that.” Jonathon said and ordered two shots.

“Oh, I can’t get drunk,” Caleb said and Jonathon rolled his eyes.

“Come on. You came here to have fun didn’t you?” He asked and pushed the shot closer to him. “Come on, don’t be a pussy.”

Caleb flushed in embarrassment and took the shot. Jonathon ordered two more and Caleb accepted his. Soon, he didn’t see the harm in drinking a little. He could still take pictures a little tipsy.

“I think he’s done.”

The bartender said two hours later. Jonathon had tried order Caleb another drink but the bartender had refused and Jonathon’s face was flushed with anger. Caleb looked at the Bartenders. Had there been two on duty all night?

“I think your right,” Jonathon said coolly. “We’ll leave now.”

He tried to take Caleb’s hand but Caleb pulled his arm away and shook his head.

“No. I am waiting for Mr. Solovyov,” he said, unaware of how drastically his speech had deteriorated. He failed to notice the disbelief that was on Jonathon’s face.

“As in the manager? I don’t think he’s coming out baby. Come on,” he said pulling at Caleb.

“Let me go,” Caleb said and tried to pull his arm away but Jonathon held it hard.

“I just bought you six shots you ungrateful little bitch,” he snapped and Jonathon was off his feet in a split second behind pulled away by Nick. It was a top priority to Solovyov to have everyone in his club safe and un-harassed, and Nick knew his boss had a special spot for this boy. The moment he had seen Jonathon, a regular club goer, approach him, he had made sure to stick close.

The rest of the night passed in a blur. No one else bothered him and the bartender made sure he had a glass of water in front of him at all times. He didn’t notice people start to leave but, in what seemed like a blink of an eye, the club was empty, the music was off and the lights were on. Solovyov came out from the offices and had Caleb’s camera bag under his arm. When Solovyov found Caleb his head was pressed against the bar and his shoulder were sagged. Solvoyov placed Caleb’s camera bag on the bar and gently nudged Caleb.

Caleb’s head snapped up and he looked at Solovyov. Solovyov watched a bright, sloppy smile spread over his face before Caleb stood and wrapped his arms around him. His arms wrapped around Solovyov firmly, and Solovyov was struck at the tender feeling that was roused in his chest. The hug was full of affection, but void of sex, and Solovyov was not used to such contact.

When Caleb tried to press his lips to Solovyov he pulled his head back and chuckled.

“Whoa. Vodka.” Solovyov said slightly amused. “You couldn’t stay sober for four hours?”

“I am sober,” Caleb pouted and tried to shove Solovyov away but sent himself stumbling back as a result. Solovyov didn’t budge.

“How’d you get here tonight Caleb?” he asked as Caleb tried to open the snap on his camera bag.

“I drove,” he replied with a frown. Solovyov ran a hand threw his hair and placed another on top of Caleb’s. He ceased his fight with the bag and looked at Solovyov.

“That won’t do,m” He mused and picked up the camera bag. Putting the strap over his shoulder he headed for the door. “Follow me.” 

“You are stealing my camera.” Caleb said following him, trying to take the bag from SOlvoyov, but the Russian would not allow it.

“I bought the camera,” Solovyov answered, raising the phone to his ear. “Yes, I’m ready.”

He closed the phone and put it in his pocket. He pushed past the front door, Caleb close behind. A silver BMW was waiting outside. The driver was getting out of the driver’s seat but Solovyov waved his hand dismissively.

“I can open my own fucking door.” He snapped and the driver sheepishly got back into the car. Solovyov opened the door and stepped to the side. “Get in.”

“But I need to take pictures for you,” Caleb whined and pointed back at the club.

“Tomorrow,” Solovyov said and gently cupped the back of Caleb’s head with his head, guiding him into the car. He sat down next to Caleb and shut the door.

“You’re kidnapping me, now.” Caleb informed him.

“Home,” Solovyov said and the car pulled forward. Caleb didn’t buckle but scooted closer to Solovyov and pressed his lips the Russian’s Adam’s apple. Solovyov gently gripped his chin and lowered his lips. Caleb tried to deepen the kiss and Solovyov smiled against his mouth.

“You reek of Vodka.” He murmured and Caleb rested his forehead on the Russian’s hard shoulder. 

“You know, I’ve never done a shot before.”

“I would never have guessed,” Solovyov said dryly and looked down at the blonde head. When Caleb looked up Solovyov gazed down at the pink, inviting lips. He lowered his mouth again, this time allowing the kiss to grow deeper and held Caleb’s head in place. Caleb pressed his lithe body against the Russian’s, trying to get closer to him.

The strong, large hand of the older man went to the front of Caleb’s pants and he rubbed back and forth. Caleb moaned, completely oblivious to the driver in the front seat, who drove on passively. He drove a lot of mafia men around, and stranger things than men kissing each other had occurred in his back seat.

Solovyov felt the boy’s cock growing harder and felt his lips curve up slightly. He pushed his tongue into Caleb’s mouth, pressing it against his. Their tongues wrestled for a few moments and Caleb pressing his groin closer to Solovyov’s hand. Solovyov felt the small hands grip his shoulders and move to get into his lap. Solovyov allowed the movements and looked over the young body. He desperately wanted to remove his clothes, but, while he didn’t mind his current actions, did not want his diver to look on Caleb’s body, no matter how straight he may be.

He slipped a hand under his shirt and felt the smooth, soft skin. Caleb moaned from the touch and pressed his lips to Solovyov’s jaw. His lips lowered to Solovyov’s neck and he sucked gently over one spot, occasionally licking the spot he had been nibbling and sucking on. The taste and feel of the Russian’s skin was making Caleb’s head swim…or the vodka was…he wasn’t sure.

The driver coughed awkwardly when he stopped the car and Solovyov looked out the window. They had arrived at Solovyov’s home and the driver was unsure of what to do. Solovyov gently slid Caleb off of his lap and opened the door.

“Be here tomorrow at 9:00,” Solovyov ordered the driver.

He helped Caleb out of the car without stumbling before popping his head back inside.

“AM,” he clarified as an afterthought. The driver nodded and pulled away, leaving Solovyov and Caleb alone. Caleb looked up at the house and his lips parted slightly. The house was beautiful. Large, but not overly so and the lawn in front of it was lush and green. Solovyov lead him up a tasteful stone walkway to the front door. Caleb looked around and as his eyes adjusted to the dark, noticed the opulent nature of the houses that surrounded them.

“Are we in Green Woods?” Caleb asked and Solovyov nodded. Caleb wasn’t sure why he was so surprised, but he hadn’t expected Solovyov to have been so well off, especially when he was only a club manager. Green Woods was one of the most expensive gated communities in New York State.

“My parents live about seven miles away. In Rosewood.” He told Solovyov who was silently leading him inside and up the stairs. Caleb wasn’t given any time to look around. He was pushed inside of a bedroom and Solovyov shut the door behind him, flicking on the lights. The Russian’s hands ran through Caleb’s hair and gripped his head in place. He pressed a hard kiss to Caleb’s mouth. When he pulled back Caleb’s lips were puffy and red. Solovyov looked over the swollen lips and lowered his lips again, this time sucking Caleb’s bottom lip between his and biting gently. Caleb moaned at the feel of teeth on his lip and gripped onto Solovyov’s lapels.

Solovyov pulled back and pushed Caleb back onto the bed. His shirt was removed by the Russian and his jeans pulled off. Caleb felt his energy draining fast and he could not find the energy to protest. His boxers were pulled down over his ankles and he lay down naked on the cool bed covers. Solovyov crawled slowly on top of him, placing soft kisses along his stomach and chest, pausing a moment to take a nipple between his lips, before he brought his lips up to Caleb’s mouth. Caleb moaned and his hand went to his cock.

“I want to fuck you tonight,” Solovyov whispered and Caleb nodded his eyes heavy. “Will you let me?”

Caleb once again nodded and Solovyov smirked. The thought of doing the right thing and letting him go to sleep never crossed his mind. He had a young, willing, highly intoxicated boy naked and in his bed. He would be a fool, as Mr. Petrov had said, to pass that up. His hand ran over the smooth body and he again, placed kisses over his chest.

“The things I’m going to do to you,” He breathed against the boy’s skin.

He pulled back, sliding off the bed and pulling at his tie. Caleb moaned in protest but Solovyov ignored him. He went into the adjoining bathroom and rummaged through the drawers. He found a condom and went back into the bedroom.

When he got back into the bed he noticed Caleb laying back, his eyes closed and breathing softly. He placed a hand on the bare chest and looked down at the angelic face.

“Caleb?” He whispered and got no response. He left his hand on Caleb and looked down over his body. He moved away and pulled Caleb up so that his head was resting on the pillow. He yanked back the covers and slid Caleb in, rolling him over onto his side, in case he got sick in the night.

Caleb didn’t move a muscle. The only thing that let Solovyov know he was alive was the soft, steady rising and falling of his chest. He ran his fingers over Caleb’s forehead, gently brushing his bangs to the side. He glanced at him a few moments more before he turned around and made for the door. With a disappointed sigh, he flicked off the lights, and walk, sleepily, to his room.


	8. Chapter Eight

When Caleb woke up he felt like his head was being beaten with hammers. When he realized he was naked he had the horrifying thought that he had gone home with that man from the club. It had been the last thing he could see clearly. He had remembered being bought drinks and after that everything was black. He got from bed as fast he could, considering his head, and slid on his clothes.

He crept out into the hall, hoping to avoid any awkward next day meetings. He didn’t feel any pain, but he still did not feel any sense of ease. He was nearly sick to his stomach at the thought of having his first sexual encounter with a man he didn’t even know while he was blackout drunk.

He walked down the stairs slowly and looked around. He couldn’t see anyone but he heard the faint sound of a voice. When he got to the bottom of the stairs and moved silently into the hall he could hear that it wasn’t English. A few more steps and it felt like all the tension left his body. He could hear Solovyov clearly now and he turned, walking into the kitchen.

Solovyov was sitting at the kitchen table, wearing a plain white V-neck sweater and black pants. He had a fork in one hand and a piece of paper in the other. He stared at the paper with a soft frown on his face and brought the fork to his lips. Caleb saw no phone anywhere near him and a smile came to his lips.

"Talking to yourself?" Caleb asked as he walked into the kitchen and Solovyov pointed with his fork to the kitchen counter.

“There are some eggs in pan,” Solovyov said and Caleb nodded, going over to look inside. He opened a couple of cupboards until he found the plates and silver wear. He sat down across from Solovyov and began to eat in silence.

Caleb looked around the large home, curious to see the place Solovyov called home. It had a cold feel to it. The walls were light blue, most of the furniture white and everything was perfectly clean. It was hard to tell that someone actually lived there. It was so cold that Caleb did not think he could really give the label ‘home’ to Solovyov’s residence, but rather just… ‘house’.

“How is your head?” Solovyov asked and Caleb winced.

“It hurts,” Caleb told him and Solovyov nodded.

“You should drink water,” Solovyov told him and Caleb got up to get a glass.

“Do you have a maid?” he asked curiously sipping at the water and retaking his seat.

“Yes.”

“A cook?” he asked, eating the eggs again.

“I am perfectly capable of cooking my own food,” he said placing the paper down and picking up another. “You will come back to club with me, take pictures, then go home.”

“Alright.” Caleb said with a mouthful of steaming eggs. “Did you make these?”

“Yes. Don’t speak with a mouth full of food. It is repulsive.” He said not looking up from his papers.

“Sorry,” he mumbled with a blush looking down. “They’re good.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m sorry for getting drunk last night,” Caleb apologized. He didn’t like the idea of the Russian mobster being mad at him, and judging by his coolness, he definitely was.

“Don’t apologize for getting drunk. Apologize for falling asleep,” Solovyov said and stood up. “I’m going to change, be ready to leave when I come back down.”

Caleb was left alone. He refilled his glass, hoping the water would cut down on his throbbing head. Solovyov’s comment shook his slightly. The thought of falling asleep on him was embarrassing enough, but the thought that he had been in a compromising position frightened him. He had no control over himself last night and had been completely at the Russian’s mercy. What was more disturbing? The thought of being at his mercy excited him. Stopping at the sink he splashed some cool water over his face. His head throbbed and he groaned covering his face with his hands. His head throbbed painfully and all he wanted to do was go home and go to sleep.

When Solovyov came downstairs he was in a grey pinstriped suit, a blue shirt and a blue and white striped tie. He pushed the knot closer to his neck and looked at Caleb with a neutral expression. “Ready to go?” He asked and Caleb nodded following him to car silently. He stared at the Russian’s strong, broad back and imagined what it would look like if the coat and shirt were removed. Solovyov had Caleb enter the car first before following him in. Caleb sat in the middle, securely bucking himself in when Solovyov shut the door. The bang of the door sent a shudder through him and he screwed his eyes shut.

He felt a cool hand on his forehead, gently guiding his head down. He felt head come to rest on the Russian’s firm chest and his cheek rubbed gently against the suit.

“My poor boy,” Solovyov tsked. “That will teach you to get drunk when un-supervised.”

“I was technically with the guy who bought me the drinks,” Caleb said. The lazy smile that was on Caleb’s face fell when the long fingers stroking his forehead froze.

“What guy?” Solovyov’s voice was harsher than normal, his already thick accent coming out even thicker.

“I don’t know, just a guy that offered me some shots,” he said looking up at Solovyov with a confused expression.

“I don’t think you understand,” Solovyov said, a stiff smile forming on his tight lips. “I don’t share. And for the time being, you’re mine.”

Caleb felt a shock run through his body and shoot straight through his groin.

“I didn’t know –”

“Of course you didn’t,” He said lowering Caleb’s head back to his chest. He ran his fingers through the silky blonde hair. “Don’t let it happen again.”

“I won’t,” Caleb said scooting closer to the Russian. “You should buckle you know. It’s safer.”

“I never wear a seatbelt. I see no purpose,” his voice was soft and close to Caleb’s ear. If Caleb didn’t know any better he could swear that he was smelling his hair.

“Not until you go flying through the wind shield,” Caleb felt the Russian’s chest rise and fall as he laughed and his hand moved to pat his cheek. Caleb groaned and turned his face so his nose was pressed into Solovyov’s chest.

“Just few pictures then you can go home and sleep,” Solovyov said softly.

“I didn’t make a fool of myself last night did I?” Caleb asked.

“Not too badly. However, you fell asleep at most inappropriate time,” Solovyov drawled and Caleb looked up at him.

“We didn’t…?” The look concern on his face made Solovyov’s eyes soften.

“Caleb,” He placed his fingertips at the boy’s mouth and ran his fingertips over his lips. “If my cock had been up your ass, you’d feel it. Trust me.”

Solovyov leaned forward, looking Caleb deeply in the eyes. Caleb felt his breath hitch in his throat. As Solovyov spoke his voice dropped to a whisper.

“I tear little boys apart.”

“Here sir,” The driver said before Caleb to speak or even regain his composure. Solovyov opened his door and exited the car, waiting for Caleb to exit before shutting the door. The driver got out of the car and opened the trunk, handing over Caleb’s camera.

As they entered the club Solovyov led him back to the offices. He walked passed his own office and pulled out a set of keys from his pocket. He opened the door to an office at the end of the hall and walked inside. Caleb followed and began unzipping his bag. Once he snapped his lens on he looked up.

“Tell Slatkin that this is my office,” Solovyov said and went over to a painting of a man that hung on the wall. As he gripped the sides reverently Solovyov began to lift it.

“Kind of an amateur painting isn’t it,” Caleb observed glancing at the painting and Solovyov stared at him.

“This was painted by Yuri Pavlovich Annenkov,” He said dryly.

“Is that supposed to mean something to me?” Caleb asked, looking back blankly.

“He was a very famous *Russian* painter.” Solovyov said placing the painting on the desk. “You have no idea how expensive that was.”

“I think you got ripped off,” Caleb said noticing for the first time a safe on the wall.

“Take a picture,” Solovyov said crossing his arms. Caleb nodded and raised the camera to his eye. He took a few pictures. One zoomed in on the lock, and another of the entire safe. He then took a few pictures of the room, Solovyov pointing out where he should take pictures. “That should be fine for your meeting tomorrow.”

“I can go home now?” He asked and Solovyov nodded, putting the painting back on the wall. Caleb bit his lip and waited for Solovyov to say something. He did not know what he was expecting, but he wanted Solovyov to give him some sort of goodbye. A hug or a kiss would not be unwelcome by Caleb, but he knew it was unlikely. He watched Solovyov contemplating the painting before he silently went to open the door. Before he could walk out Solovyov stopped him.

“Come here for a moment, Caleb,” he said and motioned him closer. Caleb quickly re-entered the room and approached the Russian. “What are you doing this weekend?”

The questions sent a jolt of excitement through Caleb’s body and he smiled. Was he going to ask him out on an actual date?

“Nothing,” Caleb replied readily.

“I have been invited to club Petrov owns. He wants to…what did he say… expand his understanding of my character. He also asked me to bring you,” Solovyov gently tugged Caleb closer to him and held him around the waist.

“Why?” Caleb asked, suddenly nervous.

“He has a boy, he doesn’t have many friends,” Solovyov looked up at the ceiling in thought. “None actually. He has a few acquaintances I am told, from a job at a small restaurant he had a while back, but none he can talk to about anything of significance. He can tell you a little bit more than a normal person.”

He cupped his Caleb’s face and smiled.

“And I have been given permission to do as I see fit with you.”

“What’s that mean?” Caleb asked, slightly uncomfortable.

“You know what it means,” Solovyov said and lowered his hand to Caleb’s bottom.

“I won’t have sex with you,” Caleb said.

“Why not?” Solovyov asked, gently kneading Caleb’s bottom.

“Because you don’t love me and I don’t love you,” Caleb said trying to ignore the pleasure he was deriving from Solovyov’s hands.

“Sex rarely has anything to do with love,” Solovyov said looking down at Caleb.

“Well it should,” Caleb said, his cheeks blushing red. He felt foolish and couldn’t hold eye contact with the Russian. “It will for me.”

“We’ll see.” Solovyov said running his knuckles over Caleb’s cheek.

“You at the very least need trust,” Caleb retorted.

“You don’t trust me?” Solovyov said feigning hurt.

“Should I?” Caleb asked and Solovyov cupped his face in his hand, holding his chin.

“In general? No.” Solovyov said and ran his thumb over Caleb’s lower lip. “But if you were to give yourself to me, I would not harm you.”

“If I can’t trust you completely I won’t do it,” Caleb said.

“I can’t trust you and I’d still fuck you,” Solovyov said letting go of Caleb.

“I am pretty sure the fuckEE needs much more trust in the other person than the fuckER,” Caleb said. “You said yourself you…well you know.”

Caleb fell silent and blushed. Solovyov sat down on the desk and smiled. Caleb looked over the strong jaw line and beautiful dark eyes and couldn’t stop the tightness in his stomach. His looks were amazing, drawing Caleb in like a moth to the flame.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Caleb. Why don’t you say it?”

“What you said in the car.”

Caleb was sure his face would be permanently red after this.

“I said many things in the car.”

“About…what you did with…boys.”

“What do I do with boys?”

Solovyov had a half smile on his face and his accented voice filled the room and made Caleb’s body hum. He momentarily saw himself bent over the desk, the Russian standing behind him. His hands fisted his hair and he pounded into him from behind.

“You…”

“I…”

“Tear them apart,” he rushed out and Solovyov smiled.

“Does the thought excite you?” He slid off the desk and walked closer to Caleb. “Don’t you want to know what it feels like to be fucked? I bet, if I bent you over that desk right now and pulled down your jeans, I’d have you begging for my cock in no time at all.”

Caleb swallowed and took the last step to Solovyov. He placed his hands over the Russian’s soldiers and ran them down over his chest. He circled a finger over the button of his jacket and looked up nervously.

“You didn’t seem so righteous when you were on your knees with my cock in your mouth.”

“I-that’s different.”

“How so?”

Caleb ran his hands over Solovyov’s chest, feeling the taught muscles through his clothing.

“It’s my mouth, not my…” his breath hitched in his throat and Solovyov’s mouth landed on his. Caleb wrapped his arms around the strong neck immediately and moaned. He felt his lower lip being sucked into Solovyov’s mouth and pressed his groin against the older man.

“You should be going. I’d hate to lose control of myself,” Solovyov said against his lips. “Besides, you must feel very ill.”

Caleb’s migraine came back in full force. He nodded and went for one more kiss, gently placing his lips to Solovyov. He just needed to be close to him.

“When will I see you again?” Caleb asked and Solovyov pulled back.

“Come back Saturday afternoon. You can tell me about the meeting on the way to the club.” Caleb frowned. “To see Petrov and his boy.”

“Oh, right.” Caleb said.

“Saturday. Seven thirty.” Solovyov said gently nudging Caleb out into the hallway. He stopped at his office and smiled at Caleb. “Feel better, Caleb.” He said opening the door. “And good luck tomorrow.”

Caleb nodded and mumbled a thank you as he left. He didn’t feel he needed luck for tomorrow. He needed luck for Saturday.


	9. Chapter Nine

Caleb sat in the cab looking at the letter Solovyov had given him. He failed to understand how those funny shapes made sounds. It was interesting to him, how someone could look at those symbols and see words, and then look at the Roman alphabet and see nothing but strange symbols. He was never big on language. He barley understood English as it was, but he always thought it was an interesting concept.

“Twenty fifty seven,” the driver said and Caleb looked away from the letter to hand over the money. He folded the letter carefully and placed it in his coat pocket. He made sure the pocket was zipped securely before taking out some money from his wallet and handing it over to the cabby.

“Keep the change,” Caleb said as he climbed out of the cab. He got inside the apartment building and bypassed the elevator. He was always excessively anxious when he had to go talk to Slatkin and it helped calm his nerves to walk up the stairs.

When he entered the room he saw that Slatkin was already there and sitting on the couch leisurely. He was sipping from a glass that seemed to be filled with lemonade and had a pleasant smile on his face. Someone was speaking to him, and he seemed pleased by what was being said, but it was spoken in a language that Caleb could not understand. He also had a strong feeling the language was not Russian either. When he saw Caleb he stood and opened his arms in greeting. “Caleb! Our photographer. Anything good?”

“I think you’ll like it,” Caleb said smiling and handing the photographs over to a thug. He had learned someone since meeting with Slatkin. He never let anything be handed to him directly. He assumed that it was a mob boss thing, a rank thing, but Caleb thought it was rather unnecessary. The pictures were handed to Slatkin and he looked them over approvingly. Caleb sat down across from him and waited.

“How did you get these?” He asked, indicating the pictures of the safe.

“Oh. Those,” Caleb said and blushed deeply. “I was invited into his office.”

He coughed and glanced around the room.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I got this too.”

Caleb reached into his pocket and pulled out the letter. He handed it to Slatkin who ripped the paper from his hands greedily. Slatkin’s eyes scanned over the letter intently. He read it twice, before he leaned back and rested it on his knee.

“Well that is very interesting,” Slatkin said and rubbed his chin. “How’d you get into his office?”

Caleb turned pink. Was Solovyov serious when he said he should tell Slatkin they…

“Ah, I see. I knew he was a fag. You too obviously,” he looked at the letter again and Caleb felt his face flush, this time in anger. “Has he been opening up to you at all?”

“What do you mean?” Caleb asked.

“Has he been telling you anything of any significance? You know pillow talk?”

He grinned.

“Not really. He left me alone in his office, so I guess it’s getting me somewhere,” Caleb said and Slatkin nodded, sliding to the front of the couch and leaning over. Caleb did the same and Slatkin spoke to him with excitement. “Ok, keep sleeping with him, this is good. Get as much information as you can out of him. Find out where their warehouses are. That’s my biggest priority right now. This was beautiful.”

He held up the letter.

“Now I know they have it, I just need to know where it is,” He said and Caleb frowned in confusion but said nothing. “Remember, warehouses. First priority.”

“And second?”

“More pictures. Of anything. Nothing is too small. So beautiful,” he said looking back at the letter and smiling.

“Why do you want to know this stuff? I don’t get how it helps,” Caleb said, trying to sound casual. Slatkin’s eyes turned hard but Caleb felt the anger was disconnected from himself and didn’t panic.

“So I can crush them,” His face was hard and his voice stony. “I’ll show them.”

“I bet you will,” Caleb said.

“You’re doing a good job, Caleb. Very good. Keep it up and I may find permanent work for you,” he said and slapped him on the shoulder.

“That’d be great,” Caleb said smiling but in reality found the idea repulsive. Slatkin nodded and stood. Caleb did the same and Slatkin stuck out his hand. His grip on Caleb's hand was firm, but friendly and they shook hands warmly.

“Very good, Caleb. Remember to call when you get something new.”

Slatkin reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash.

“Thank you,” Caleb said accepting the money and putting it in his pocket. “I will.”

A big man tapped his shoulder and motioned for the door. Caleb followed him out, hearing nothing else from Slatkin. He didn’t count the money until he got home. He wasn’t sure how much he had been given, but it was certainly over a grand, and carrying that much around wasn’t smart.

He didn’t go straight to his dorm. Instead he went right to student services to pay his room and board payment for the month. The woman at the desk looked slightly suspicious of the one hundred dollar bills he pulled out but Caleb ignored her. Once he was paid he stopped at the cafeteria for lunch. He didn’t feel like dealing with Scott just yet. He had been very vocal about his disapproval of Caleb going to Solovyov’s club. Caleb hoped that he’d be in class when he got back to the dorm.

Luckily he was. Caleb opened a window letting in the cool spring air. He laid down in bed and buried his head in his pillow and groaned. Solovyov had been in his thoughts nearly twenty four seven. He couldn’t even go out to take pictures, something that was supposed to calm him, without thinking about him. When he had left the club yesterday he had felt deflated. He thought Solovyov was gorgeous, and had never been so attracted to a man but their encounter had left him feeling less than enthusiastic about seeing him again.

It shouldn’t have come as a shock, but Caleb was upset when he came to the realization that Solovyov wasn’t the type of man you dated without putting out. Solovyov had made that clear. Caleb had nothing against fooling around, but he had always thought sex needed to be special. Solovyov clearly didn’t see things that way.

Caleb would need to be much more careful around Solovyov. He couldn’t let himself get caught up in the moment as he had been doing. Caleb didn’t think for one second that Solovyov wouldn’t take advantage of any situation he was presented with.

Caleb sighed and rolled over. Why did things need to get so complicated? All he wanted to do was get some extra money to pay for school. Now he felt an odd and annoying sense of sadness about Solovyov’s dismissive attitude toward sex. Caleb clearly wasn’t anything special. He was just another mouth for the gangster to use.

He sighed again and counted the remaining bills Slatkin had given him.

_

Caleb decided to take a cab to Solovyov’s club. He didn’t feel like trying to find a parking spot in the city on a Saturday night. His hands were folded in his lap and he fidgeted nervously. He didn’t know if he was more nervous about meeting Mr. Petrov or seeing Solovyov again. It was most likely both.

When he got to the club he paid the cab driver and got out of the car. He jumped nearly a mile when he turned and saw Alexander standing right in front of him.

“You’re five minutes late,” Alexander said looking at his watch.

“Not my fault,” Caleb said unzipping his jacket. Alexander nodded and turned toward the club. Caleb followed him past the line and into the club. It was relatively empty, only the hardcore clubbers who wanted to hit every club in the city each night showed up this early.

“Caleb?”

A voice said from the dance floor and Caleb looked over in surprise. His ex-boyfriend stood there in a skin tight pink t-shirt and skinny jeans. He wrapped his thin arms around Caleb and gave him a hug.

“I didn’t know you came here. Shit, it’s been so long,” he said warmly and Caleb smiled uncomfortably.

“Yeah,” Caleb said pulling away from him. “Guess it has been. I uh, kinda have to be somewhere,”

“Yeah, yeah, sure. Hey, come back later, OK. We can dance,” he grinned flirtatiously and placed his hands on Caleb’s hips. Caleb nodded and gently pried his hands off. Yeah, he wanted to dance, and wanted a blowjob without anything reciprocation and then go have sex with better looking guys.

“Ok, bye Dayton.” Caleb said and turned around to Alexander’s amused face.

“Friend of yours?” He asked and Caleb pushed by him.

“Shut up,” Alexander followed him to the offices before he caught back up.

“Was that an ex? I guess the two bitch relationship thing didn’t work, huh.” He said and Caleb stopped in front of Solovyov’s office.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know, two bottoms don’t make a top…nothing, forget I said anything. Mr. Solovyov’s going to be mad enough you’re late.” Alexander said and knocked on the office door. Caleb heard Solovyov speak and his stomach tightened nervously. The door opened and Caleb stepped inside. Alexander said nothing and shut the door, leaving them alone. Solovyov leaned back in his chair and smiled at Caleb.

“Don’t you look nice.”

“Thanks,” He said sheepishly, a blush spreading over his cheeks.

“Come here,” he said motioning him closer and Caleb went to stand in front of him. Solovyov leaned forward in his chair and looked over his clothing. “You are always so well dressed…how is it you afford such clothing when you can’t afford a camera?”

He asked and Caleb swallowed. He wouldn’t tell Scott about that comment. He didn’t need to hear another ‘I told you so’ from him.

“I’ve had these clothes for a while. I take good care of them,” he said looking down at himself. Solovyov looked up at him and placed his hand on Caleb’s arm, feeling the cool brown leather.

“Mmm.” He said and motioned for the chair across from the desk. “Anything new from Slatkin?”

“He wants to know where your warehouses are,” Caleb told him trying to keep his eyes on Solovyov’s and not on his face or chest or hands.

“Warehouses…would he hit them?” Solovyov asked and Caleb shrugged.

“He might. He said after reading the letter something like ‘now I know they have it’ or something like that, and he got pretty serious when I asked why he wanted all this information. Said he wanted to crush you, and he got mad, and I mean mad. The look in his eyes was terrifying.”

Solovyov nodded.

“I’ll talk to Petrov about it.” He reached into a drawer and pulled out a wallet. “How much did he pay you?”

“Two Grand. When he saw that letter I thought he was going to blow a load in his pants,” Caleb said and watched Solovyov count out one hundred dollar bills. He handed the bills to Caleb and he counted them out.

“Mr. Solovyov, I don’t think the information I am getting is worth this much,” Caleb said holding the money in his hands.

“Slatkin gave you two. I gave you three,” he said indicating the money.

“My loyalty doesn’t go to whoever pays me more you know,” Caleb said slightly offended and Solovyov smiled coolly.

“You jumped ship once. Who’s to say you won’t do it again?”

“I won’t,” Caleb said and handed Solovyov fifteen hundred dollars. When Solovyov made no move to accept it Caleb put it down on the desk. Solovyov looked at the money before his eyes made their way back to Caleb. His smile took on more warmth and he nodded, taking the money from the desk and putting it back into his wallet.

“Well then. I will pay you accordingly,” he said and Caleb nodded, satisfied.

“That’s what I want,” Caleb told him. “Am I dressed ok? For the club?”

“You look very nice,” Solovyov answered. He looked over Caleb’s slim body and smiled. “There are a couple things I need to go over with you. When you speak with Mr. Petrov do not mention Italians or police. Do not ask any questions. None. Don’t talk to anyone with blonde hair and blue eyes. Don’t –”

“Why can’t I talk to anyone with blonde hair and blue eyes?” Caleb asked.

“Because that means it is either Yakov or Adrik Aleksandrovich Torbinski and I do not like them.”

“That’s why I can’t talk to them…you don’t like them?” Caleb asked and Solovyov crossed his arms.

“Do you have a problem with that?”

Caleb shook his head.

“Good. Now. I’ve only met this Mischa once…I think his real name is Michael… but he was very quiet. Very reserved. Don’t frighten him.”

“Frighten him? How would I frighten him? He’s banging a Russian mobster for Christ’s sake.” Caleb said and Solovyov smiled.

“You are very…I don’t know…the word is not coming to me,” he said as he looked at Caleb.

“Special?” Caleb said with a bright smile.

“If that’s the word you want to use.” He said. Silence fell between them and Solovyov continued to look at Caleb. Uncomfortable with the silence Caleb spoke up.

“How long until we leave?”

“Around an hour.”

“Why’d you want me here so early?” Caleb asked and Solovyov smiled softly.

“Come here,” He said softly. Caleb hesitated but one look at the broad shoulders, strong jaw line and hot eyes and Caleb was out of his seat. Solovyov pushed away from his desk and motioned for Caleb to straddle his lap. Caleb immediately obeyed and straddled him. The moment their groins met Caleb had to bite back a moan. His resolution to stay away from the mobster, physically, flew out the window. Solovyov looked up at Caleb as he grabbed Caleb’s hips. He squeezed gently and pulled Caleb’s body down, adding pressure between them. With Caleb’s help he rubbed the boys hardening erection against his own. “Oh, that’s a good boy.”

He breathed.

Caleb gripped the Russian’s shoulders tightly. He moved his hips back and forth, wanting more friction between them. “Stop.” Solovyov said and Caleb did but groaned in protest.

“No pouting,” He teased and plucked at the button on Caleb’s jeans. His hand slipped into Caleb’s underwear and gently gripped the hard skin.

“Mm, do you get this hard for other men, Caleb?” He asked freeing the hard shaft and stroking it slowly. Caleb mumbled something softly, his face flushing. Solovyov’s hand froze on his member. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear that.”

“No. I don’t.” Caleb said louder and pushed his hips up in Solovyov’s hand. He resumed his strokes and watched with a satisfied smile as Caleb made it to completion. Before he came Solovyov grabbed a few tissues to make sure neither of their clothing was hit by cum. Caleb’s hands stayed on Solovyov’s shoulders as he caught his breath. Had he not already been flushed, he would have blushed when he looked down at Solovyov. Solovyov helped him tuck himself back into his pants before Caleb zipped himself back up.

Caleb slid off of his lap when Solovyov nudged him gently, but before he could go back to his chair his wrist was grabbed and he was tugged to his knees. Caleb looked up at Solovyov who was already reaching for his belt. His eyes were hot and intense and Caleb watched his jaw clench.

“My turn.”


	10. Chapter Ten

“Straighten your hair,” Solovyov said as he buckled his belt. Caleb, wiping his mouth, stood and ran his free hand through his hair.

“So I am going to babysit Petrov’s girlfriend?” Caleb asked and Solovyov said nothing.

“Do favor for me tonight, Caleb,” Solovyov said as he opened his office door. “Try not to speak unless it is absolutely necessary.”

Caleb followed him to the front of the club where a car was waiting for them. Solovyov slid into the car first and Caleb followed.

“You should buckle,” Caleb said clicking his into place. “Might save your life.”

“It would wrinkle my suit,” Solovyov said looking down at himself. He straightened out his tie and brushed imaginary lint from his sleeves.

“Nervous?” Caleb asked looking out the window.

“Of course I’m not nervous,” he snapped and crossed his legs. “I have nothing to be nervous about.”

“Well he is your boss. You are presumably trying to move up the mysterious world of Russian organized crime. I mean say one wrong thing and who knows what Petrov will think. Hopefully you impress him tonight cause if not then –”

“Caleb, shut up,” Solovyov said and Caleb looked at him with a smile.

“I’m only joking.”

“Jokes are funny,” Solovyov ran a hand over his hair, making sure everything was in place. Caleb looked over at him a moment. Solovyov, to the casual observer, looked calm, cool and collected, but Caleb, from the small time he had known the Russian, could see that his nerves were working on him. He jaw clenched just a little too long and his foot bobbed a little too fast.

“You look good,” Caleb said and bit his lip.

“Thank you,” Solovyov said softly and played with his cuffs. “Be polite. Try to not speak.”

“Yes, sir,” Caleb said sarcastically and rolled his eyes. He looked back out the window. “Where are we going?”

“A club.”

Caleb turned to look at Solovyov with a reproachful expression.

“Gee, really?”

“Yes,”

Caleb leaned back in his seat and looked at the driver in the rearview mirror. He had a small, half smile on his face and Caleb scowled. They were only moving for around fifteen minutes before the car pulled to a stop and the driver opened the door for Solovyov. Caleb slid out after him. They skipped the line, Solovyov leading the way, pushing passed a man who offered to lead them.

“So what’s wrong with this kid?” Caleb asked and Solovyov frowned.

“Who?”

“Petrov’s boyfriend,”

“There is nothing wrong with him,” he said trying to keep his voice hushed he stopped right before the main club so he wouldn’t have to yell.

“There’s gotta be something wrong with him,” Caleb said.

“He’s shy. That’s it. Please, do not insult him. I’d rather you insult Petrov.”

He turned to walk to the floor but stopped and turned back to Caleb. He raised his hand, pointing a long finger at Caleb’s face and kept his voice stern.

“Don’t insult Petrov.”

Caleb’s nerves, which he had kept at bay, suddenly came rushing at him. He felt his hands begin to sweat the moment he heard the pounding music and he kept close to Solovyov. Girls were giggling and smiling at the tall Russian as he walked by. Caleb saw him smile as he looked at them and he and waved at them with his fingers playfully. Caleb rolled his eyes as they giggled to each other.

When Solovyov walked into the outer V.I.P room he had a smug smile on his face. That’s something his ego didn’t need, Caleb thought.

“What?” Solovyov asked as he saw the look on his face.

“Nothing,” Caleb said and looked away, crossing his arms. Solovyov walked across the V.I.P room, shaking hands with a few different men. When he was introduced to the girlfriends he took their hands in his and complemented them warmly. He was quite the charmer and had Caleb not known any better he never would have never guessed he was gay. Caleb glanced around at the different people in the V.I.P room while Solovyov spoke. Caleb was watching a man try desperately to stick his tongue down a girl’s throat when he felt Solovyov nudge him toward the back of the room. Another door was opened and the music was a little fainter but the pounding of the bass could still be heard.

“The boy to his right is Petrov’s,” Solovyov murmured in Caleb’s ear as they entered the room. Caleb looked over and saw a group of people sitting around on white leather couches and chairs. There was a large, flat screen T.V off on the far wall and a fully stocked private bar to the right. The men were drinking and laughing, women were sitting on a few men’s laps. Everyone looked happy, even the kid sitting to Petrov’s left. He was a good looking guy, not really Caleb’s type, but he could see why the Russian would be taken with him. He was a little skinny, and was younger than Caleb would be interested in, but he was good looking all the same.

“Looks happy,” Caleb murmured back as they walked closer.

“You would too if you were being fucked Iosef Petrov,” Solovyov said and Caleb frowned, looking up the Russian.

“Grigori!” Petrov said when he spotted Solovyov. He smiled and opened his arms. The others turned around to look at him. When Petrov stood the others snapped to attention, standing to greet Solovyov with him. “It is so nice to see you again. You know Adrik and Yakov?”

“Da,” he said nodding at them with a forced smile.

“This is my good friend Igor,” Petrov slapped a mean looking man on the shoulder and the two shook hands. “This is a business associate Richard O’Brian and his lovely fiancé Melissa.”

“Very nice to meet you,” Solovyov said shaking their hands.

“And this is Nikolai Sergeievich Vasin, Mikhail Ivanovich Denisov, and Arkadiy Pavlovich Volchenkov. Gentlemen this is my friend Grigori Aleksandrovich Solovyov.”

The four men shook hands and Petrov invited everyone to sit back down.

“And this is the wonderful photographer I have told you all about,” Petrov said and Caleb went slightly pale.

“Ah this is the young man,” Sergeyevich said. “How do your meetings with Slat –”

“I don’t believe I opened the door for conversation on business,” Petrov said and Caleb swallowed. He looked over at Solovyov who was seated next to him. There was a small smug smile on the Russian’s lips as he watched the other stumble over his apology. As the man tried to recover one of the blonde men crossed his legs and looked at Solovyov.

“Where are you from, Grigori Aleksandrovich? I have heard you speak Russian and your accent is very hard to place.”

“Eastern Russia,” Solovyov answered him. Caleb glanced away from Solovyov and toward Michael. When Caleb’s eyes landed on him their eyes met for a moment before Michael looked down at his feet and then over at the blonde man.

“What city?”

Solovyov ran a finger over his lips a moment in thought.

“Verkhoyansk,” Solovyov told them and his discomfort was obvious in his voice.

The second blond man leaned forward slightly.

“I don’t think I’ve heard of that,” The man said with a smile on his face that Caleb didn’t think was very genuine.

“No, I wouldn’t think you have. It is very small,” Solovyov explained and the blond men glanced at each other with a small smile.

“How small?”

“When I left I think there was around…seventeen hundred living there. It was a small factory town.” Solovyov said and the others snickered, even Petrov had a small smile on his face.

“Seventeen hundred? Jesus Christ,” Adrik laughed reaching for his drink.

“Shit, Solovyov how did you live?”

“Were you even taught how to read there?” Yakov asked still smiling.

“Yes I attended school,” Solovyov said stiffly. He tried to keep a smile on his face but found himself struggling.

“Were all thirteen grades in one room?” Adrik asked and the others broke out in laughter. Pavlovich slapped Solovyov on the shoulder.

“It’s all in good fun my friend,” he said and Solovyov nodded, smiling at the man.

“Of course,” he crossed his legs but there was no indication he found it amusing in the slightest. “I left when I was sixteen. I studied for some time in St. Petersburg.”

The others nodded unimpressed. Adrik asked Ivanovich about his time in Moscow and they all fell into comfortable conversation. Caleb glared at the blonde man for a few moments before looking down at his feet. He felt oddly protective of Solovyov, and he was angered that the other man could be so blatantly insulting to him.

“Go get me a drink,” Solovyov told him, leaning back against the couch.

“What do you want?” Caleb mumbled. Solovyov did a wonderful job hiding his discomfort, but it was visible something was off and Caleb fought off the strong urge to kiss him gently.

“Straight vodka. Over there,” he said and Caleb rose. Michael looked away from the mobsters when Caleb rose and subtly pulled his hand from Petrov’s. Petrov looked over at Michael but said nothing.

Caleb was behind the bar and getting a bottle of Vodka when he saw Michael approach. The kid sat down on one of the stools and looked at the table. He fidgeted with his hands nervously and Caleb was about to speak but the kid beat him to it. When he did speak it was with a quiet, almost shakey voice.

“I’m Michael,” he said simply and bit the inside of his cheek.

“Caleb. Want a glass?” Caleb asked and Michael shook his head.

“No I, uh, I don’t drink,” Michael told him, licking his upper lip.

Caleb nodded and poured a glass for Solovyov. Michael was watching him intently, and Caleb did not know what to say. He really did not like the idea of being a babysitter, and especially the babysitter of Iosef Petrov’s boy toy. One wrong word and the kid could get him killed. Michael was almost more dangerous than Petrov himself. Of course Caleb had no way of knowing that Michael was all but oblivious to the power he had.

“Sorry about having to come here tonight. I know you don’t really want to be here,” Michael said softly and Caleb was struck by the vulnerability in his voice.

Caleb looked up from the glass. The kid looked embarrassed and dejected.

“I told Iosef that I was fine. I know people from school…. Um, I’m really sorry that they made you come out just cause of me. Makes me seem kinda pathetic.”

“I didn’t come here for you,” Caleb lied leaning against the bar stool. He could see some of the embarrassment leave Michael’s face and was immediately replaced with relief.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I’m here ‘cause I’m banging my boss.”

He smiled. Michael’s features lightened up and he sat up a little straighter.

“I didn’t even know there’d be someone around my age here. Glad there was though,” Caleb slapped Michael on the shoulder.

“Now I’m not alone,” Caleb said. He seemed to know exactly what to say to make Michael feel better about himself.

The smile on Michael’s face grew.

“Stay here, be right back.”

Caleb took the glass of vodka intended for Solovyov and went around the side of the bar. He handed the glass over to his Russian boss who accepted it with a small smile.

“Already got him well trained I see.” Petrov said smiling. “You see, my friends, Grisha here shares my love for young boys. Isn’t that right Mischa?”

“Uh, sure,” Michael said turning around on the bar stool.

“But you see, this one,” He said pointing at Michael, “Doesn’t listen to a word I say. Do you?” Michael smiled.

“Nope.”

Caleb didn’t hear what else was said but went back to the bar. He began looking through the bar at the alcohol. “Sure you don’t want some?”

“I don’t handle alcohol well,” Michael said as Caleb nodded and stood.

“Me neither,” Caleb said. “Being around these people though, cause anyone to drink,”

“I’m used to them,” Michael mumbled out and shrugged. “You really didn’t know about me before you came here?”

Caleb shook his head.

“No. See I was hired to get photographs of Solovyov and your sugar daddy over there. I got caught, they decided not to kill me, so now I’m working with them, ended up giving Solovyov head, I end up here.”

Caleb shrugged and shot him a smile.

“Who’d of thought?”

“Dam,” Michael mumbled and Caleb nodded. There were a few moments of silence before Michael opened his mouth to speak. “You know, I could have a lot of friends if I wanted to. It’s just too complicated. I don’t know what to tell people. I can’t relate to them. You know? Everything I have to say relates to Iosef someway and I can’t say anything. How am I supposed to make friends if I can’t speak?”

“You can’t,” Caleb told him with a shrug. He turned his head to look at MIchael. “You have to find people who know about it.”

“They’re all old,” Michael said kicking the bar gently. “Well, not old. Older than me.”

“Any clubs you could join? You know where you could talk about club stuff and not personal stuff.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, photography club?”

“Photography is stupid,” Michael and said Caleb held his hands up and Michael laughed. “Oh…sorry.”

Caleb shook his head and smiled.

“Science clubs?”

“Science is stupid too…you like science don’t know?” Michael and Caleb nodded.

“Yes. Yes I do,” Caleb said blandly. They looked at each other with blank expressions before Caleb broke out into a smile. Michael laughed nercously and tried to relax, but he was too afraid of losing his one chance at having a real friend.

“I suck at science. I’m barely pulling a C+ in that class,” Michael said. He jerked his head to the side, straightening out his hair.

“What science?”

“Chemistry and Physics. I need them to graduate, ” Michael sighed. “Don’t know if that’ll happen, but Iosef is obsessed with me going to college.”

“I majored in science. I could help you if you want,” Caleb offered.

Michael’s head snapped around to look at Caleb, his jaw partially open.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Caleb told him. “It would be no problem.”

“I have my notebook here. Wanna look at it?”

He looked so excited Caleb couldn’t help but nod.

“Follow me,” Michael told him softly and slid off the bar stool. He walked to the far side of the room without speaking to any of the Russian men seated around the couch. Caleb followed but glanced back at the group of mobsters. Solovyov did not seem to see him leaving but instead listened to the conversation without speaking, a hard expression on his face.

“Are we allowed to leave?” Caleb asked and Michael looked back.

“He won’t care,” Michael said meaning Petrov. They didn’t go out the door Caleb had used when they arrived but instead through a different door that opened up into a hallway. Once in the hallway a large man in a suit stepped in front of them. His large hand came down on Caleb’s chest and pressed him against the wall.

“Uh, Mike?” Caleb called with a nervous breath and Michael turned back. When he saw Caleb pressed against the wall he hurried back to him, a frown on his face.

“No, down boy,” Michael said to the big man. “No. no. Friend. Frriieeeeennddd.”

The large man began patting down Caleb’s jeans.

“Nyet Vasily. Nyet!”

The big man stood back up and crossed his arms leaning back against the door. He gave Michael a scolding expression but said nothing and Michael stared right back at him for a few seconds.

“Sorry about that. Iosef is extremely paranoid,” Michael told him and began walking down the hall. Caleb caught up with him and looked back at the big body guard. Michael unlocked one of the offices and flicked on the lights. When Caleb walked in Michael was going through a backpack and pulled out a notebook and text book. “This is my chemistry stuff.”

Caleb took the book from Michael’s hand and placed it on the desk. 

“My take home test is due on Monday.”

Caleb opened the book and looked at the piece of paper jammed inside of it. He took it out and read the first equation out in a breath. “A mixture of morphine..C17… H19… NO3 and an inert solid is analyzed by combustion with oxygen. Unbalanced equation C17 H19 NO3 + O2 --> CO2 + H2O + NO2. Inert solid does not react with oxygen, yadda yadda yadda. if 4.0 g of the mixture yields 8.72 g of CO2, calculate the percent morphine Y mass in the mixtuuuuure.” Caleb looked over the problem. “What do you need to do?”

Michael took the test from Caleb and looked it over. “I have to find the balanced formula and the gram molar mass.” Caleb nodded.

“OK, easy. Come here.” He put the test paper on the desk and grabbed a pen. He scribbled out some notes on the paper, explaining, step by step, how he was arriving at each conclusion. Michael nodded but he felt more lost then when Iosef spoke to him in Russian. Often times Petrov would forget to switch languages and ramble off at Michael in Russian. Michael would simply sit there staring at him.

“Sound good? You see how I got it?”

“Um…not really.” Michael said and blushed. “I’m not real smart.”

“Of course you are,” Caleb said shoving him playfully. “This is hard stuff. OK, so the molar mass of chemical compounds is equal to the sums of the molar mass of all the atoms in one molecule of that compound. Make sense?”

Michael made a motion with his head the Caleb interpreted as a nod.

“For example with a chemical compound like NaCl, the molar mass will be equal to the molar mass of one atom of sodium plus the molar mass of one atom of chlorine. Is this getting in there anywhere?” He asked poking Michael’s forehead.

“Not really.”

Caleb laughed and sat down in one of the chairs, Michael soon followed suit. “Alright.” Caleb said and opened the chemistry book. “Chapter one.”

Michael leaned back and groaned earning a laugh from Caleb.

_

“I think I get it.” Michael said and Caleb looked at him.

“Are you lying again?”

“Yes.”

Caleb’s forehead hit the desk and Michael looked at his test.

“This stuff doesn’t make any sense!” He yelled. “I get the balancing part now. That makes sense, but this stuff with the molar mass and... I should just quite school.”

“No you shouldn’t, ” Caleb said. “You’re picking it up pretty dam fast for someone who knew as little as you.”

“Um...thanks?”

“It was supposed to be a compliment,” Caleb smiled. He yawned and leaned back in his chair. When he looked at his cell phone, after clearing the seven missed calls from Scott, he was surprised to see it was already 3 a.m. Not a second later the door swung open and Caleb’s eyes immediately found Solovyov.

“I told you they wouldn’t go far,” Petrov said entering the office. “Grigori here gets himself all worked up.”

He opened his arms and Michael slid into them. Caleb stood and dropped his pencil on Michael’s notebook.

“Caleb helped me with my test.” Michael said and Petrov kissed him gently on the lips. He cupped the boy’s soft cheek and smiled at him.

“Isn’t he wonderful Grigori?”

“Yes, Sir.” He answered and glanced at Caleb.

“The others can’t fully appreciate him. Not like you can anyway.”

He smiled and kissed Michael again.

“I’m going to call you next week about the warehouses,” Petrov said dropping his voice. “I’m going to put a few more men on them.”

Solovyov nodded.

“Well, until then,” Petrov said dropping his arms from around Michael and shaking hands with his colleague.

“You know the way out?” Petrov asked taking a seat behind the desk while Michael began putting his things away.

“Yes Sir. Good night,” he said and stepped out of the room waiting for Caleb. Caleb stopped next to Michael and took the pencil from him.

“Here’s my number,” Caleb said handing the pencil back to Michael.

“Thanks,” Michael said putting the number in his pocket.

“Shoot me a text or something.” He said and Michael nodded. Caleb waved awkwardly at Petrov who looked pleased. He hurried out into the hall and shut the door behind him. Solovyov looked exhausted and rubbed a hand over his face as he walked down the hallway.

When they got into the car Solovyov leaned his head against the window and sighed. Caleb looked over at him and ran his eyes over the strong outline of jaw. The memory of Solovyov’s embarrassment of his home town came back to him and he bit his lip. Caleb unbuckled himself and slid over to Solovyov. The Russian looked over at him and lifted his arm. Caleb scooted next to him and wrapped his arms around the Russian’s waist.

“You smell nice.” Caleb mumbled and closed his eyes.

“Thank you,” Solovyov said and ran a hand through Caleb’s hair.


	11. Chapter Eleven

Solovyov told Caleb to return tomorrow for more pictures. Their goodbye at the club was cool, and not a lot was said. Caleb wanted to kiss him goodbye, but reminded himself that they were not a couple. Instead he just nodded at the order to return, and hailed a cab. Scott was asleep when he returned, but he stirred slightly, before falling silent again.

Caleb arrived at the club around one in the afternoon and was led straight to Solovyov’s office. The moment Caleb opened the door Solovyov stood and pointed at him. Caleb felt his mouth go slightly dry and he took an automatic step backward. He wracked his brain for what he could have possibly done to piss the Russian off. He had been nice to Michael, so surely Petrov had not been upset with him last night.

“Out,” Solovyov said as he moved around the desk with long strides. Caleb backed out of the room, still confused and Solovyov shut his office door behind him. “Follow me.”

Solovyov walked swiftly down the hall. He pulled out a ring of keys from his pocket and unlocked a backdoor. Caleb had a horrifying thought he was walking to his own execution but pushed it out of his mind. He was sure that Solovyov would not kill him for something so minor he did not even know what it was.

They walked through a plain looking room and the Russian unlocked another door. Solovyov opened the door and shoved Caleb inside roughly. Caleb stumbled but regained his footing quickly. Solovyov closed the door behind him and Caleb tried to canvas the room to make sure he wasn’t about to be killed. Caleb saw four men standing around a table and a fifth man, which Caleb noticed with a dry mouth, sat at the end of the table with a black bag over his head.

“Is he dead?” Caleb nearly whispered. His throat was suddenly dry and scratchy. He had never tasted chalk before, but he was sure that was the taste he had on his tongue.

“No,” Solovyov said and pulled the bag away. The man’s eyes were closed. He had a deep gash on his forehead that had been wiped clean and his jaw hung open limply. Caleb’s forehead knitted together as he looked at him. He looked oddly familiar.

“Do you know this man?” Solovyov asked and Caleb took a step closer. Caleb watched the unconscious man’s chest rise and fall slowly and put the back of his hand to his mouth. Caleb looked at the man a few moments when the memory of this man came back to him.

“He was at the meeting with Slatkin. He patted me down,” Caleb said and Solovyov nodded.

“Do you know his name?”

“No,” Caleb said and backed back up. “Your names are too long to remember.”

“You’d do well to remember names from now on. Go back to my office. I will be there in minute,” Solovyov said and Caleb didn’t need to be told twice. He turned quickly to leave, and as he left he heard the Russian say, in a hushed voice, “Tie him back up.”

Caleb got to Solovyov’s office and shut the door behind him. His stomach was upset and he sat down in a chair and closed his eyes. Solovyov came back almost forty five minutes later and sat behind his desk without saying anything. When he sat down he pulled a comb from his desk and combed his hair. 

“Is he dead?” Caleb asked shifting in his seat. His complexion was pasty and pale.

“No. Not yet,” he said. “You are positive that you saw him at meeting?”

“He had his hands on my balls. I remember him.”

“Yes,” Solovyov said looking at him strangely. “Petrov called me earlier. He was very pleased with your impression on Michael. Thank you for that.”

“He’s a cool kid,” Caleb said and Solovyov nodded.

“He was here last night. He tried to follow you home,” Solovyov said and Caleb frowned.

“Michael tried to follow me home?”

“What? No. The man in the backroom.”

“Oh…I was gonna say…”

“I can’t let him go. Obviously. But I am worried that if he is killed it will hurt your chances of infiltrating them at all.”

He paused.

“I am sure it won’t matter. We figured it was one of Slatkin’s men before you ID-ed him. No… No you won’t come to any danger. Why don’t you go home? We will do the pictures at another time. I have business to attend to today.”

Caleb nodded and rose from the chair on shaky legs. He turned to leave when Solovyov stopped him.

“Caleb. Come here,” he said softly. Caleb walked over to him. Solovyov reached up, gently gripping Caleb’s chin. Guiding Caleb’s lips down, he placed a firm kiss down on his mouth. He pulled back and smiled softly. “You did very well last night.”

He let go of Caleb’s face.

“Thanks,” Caleb said with a blush and a smile. Pleased he finally got his goodbye kiss, he walked from the office.

Caleb slung his camera over his shoulder as he exited the club. He was slightly disappointed he couldn’t spend more time at the club with Solovyov, but the kiss had put him in high spirits. The kiss was not a means to an end, there was nothing sexual about it. It had been one of affection and Caleb could not help but hope that Solovyov might have some feelings beginning to develop for him. He admonished himself for wanting the Russian’s affections, but he knew he himself was getting in too deep.

He enjoyed being in the older man’s presence and could listen to him speak all day. Fuck those Russians from last night. Solovyov sounded sexier than any of them, even if he did come from a Russian redneck town in the middle of Siberia.

Caleb got into his car and placed his camera on the seat next to him. He started the car and pulled away from the curb. He hoped Solovyov would call him soon. He wanted to see the mobster again. As he drove back to the university he focused his thoughts on the way the Russian’s eyes twinkled when he smiled and forced the image of the unconscious man tied to a chair to the back of him mind.

_

Solovyov shut the door behind him as he entered the room. The man in the chair tried to yell but was muffled around the cloth that had been shoved into his mouth. A mean looking man with blonde hair laid a suitcase on the table. He unlatched the safety locks and opened it for Solovyov before he stepped back, allowing more space for his boss.

“Thank you, Ivan,” he said looking in the suitcase. He pulled up another chair and placed it next to the seated man. Ivan pulled out the bound man’s chair and moved him to he was sitting in front of Solovyov.

“Alexander went home?” He asked a man named Konstantin. His voice was light and pleasant, but it put no one in the room at any ease.

“He’s not in the building, Sir,” Konstantin replied respectfully and went to stand by the door. Satisfied Solovyov reached up and removed the gag from the man’s mouth. The man’s chest heaved up and down as his eyes darted between the Russians, but stronger than the fear in his eyes, was overwhelming hatred. “My name is Grigori Aleksandrovich.”

When the man said nothing Solovyov raised his eyebrows. A small half smile came to his lips and waited just another few moments before continuing.

“Are you not going to introduce yourself? That’s terribly rude.”

He waited a few moments and when he was met with silence he stood. Pulling a black velvet cloth from the briefcase he spread it out on the table silently. “This is supposed to be the easy part.”

Solovyov shook his head, as if he were scolding a child.

Reaching back into the suitcase he pulled out a small black fixed blade and placed it gently on the velvet cloth. He reached back in, this time pulling out a long and skinny blade that was a beautiful shiny silver. He reached in yet again pulling out a short fat blade with a smooth edge. The imprisoned mobster’s eyes widened as he watched Solovyov. When a large, 12” blade came out of the suitcase Solovyov spoke, running his hand over it lovingly.

“I’m known for my use of knives, you know, but I suppose this could qualify as a saw. See?” He said showing off the jagged serrated blade. “No need to worry, that’s for later.”

He placed it down on the cloth and then retook his seat. The knives were right next to him, and available to him just by raising his left hand.

“My name is Anatoly Vladimirovich Krupin.” He spoke and Solovyov nodded and leaned back in his chair. He crossed his legs, making himself comfortable and spoke again, his voice still light and unthreatening.

“That wasn’t so hard. Who do you work for?” 

“I’m not telling you anything,” Krupin practically snarled at Solovyov. Solovyov nodded, his face neutral and reached for a blade. He held it in his hands and looked the man over in thought. As he rotated the blade, light glinted against the silver blade, and momentarily blinded the man.

“Who do you work for?” Solovyov asked again, his voice suddenly more deadly.

The man remained silent and stared Solovyov in the eyes. Solovyov leaned forward and pushed the man’s sleeve up around his bound wrist. The man attempted to wiggle his hand away but Solovyov got a strong grip on his fingers. The man tried to wrench his hand away but it was held firm. Solovyov held the man’s pinky apart from the rest of his hand and placed the blade between the two fingers.

“See the lines at the base of a person’s fingers?” He asked holding the hand open for Ivan to look. The young Russian nodded. “Makes cutting easier.”

He applied pressure on the knife and it slide easily into the skin of the now screaming man’s hand. When the pinky came away from his hand Solovyov held the pinky up with his thumb and pointer finger.

“My goodness,” Solovyov said. “You’re bleeding on my floor.” He paused. “Still won’t tell me? You have nine more fingers Anatoly Vladimirovich.”

“Slatkin.” He spit out. “I won’t tell you anything else.”

“I’m sure,” he said with a smile.

“Why are you interested in our warehouses?” he asked and the man frowned.

“How’d you know…?” Krupin trailed off.

“Your photographer?” Solovyov let out a small condescending laugh. “You didn’t think I didn’t know about that did you?”

“That backstabbing little bitch,” the man yelled in anger.

“Oh don’t blame the boy,” Solovyov scolded. “He clearly knew what side to be on. Now. No changing the subject. What interest do you have in the warehouses?”

The man stayed silent. Solovyov nodded and went for his hand again. Four fingers and a broken knee cap later he started talking. He bawled out all their plans for the warehouses. Why they wanted them, what they planned to do and how they planned to go about it. Solovyov sat still, his face neutral, listening to the man quietly. He nodded slowly and looked Ivan. When the man finished speaking Solovyov stood and began buttoning his suit jacket back up. 

“You asshole,” the man sob. “A fucking faggot like you and Petrov will never match up to a man like Slatkin!” Solovyov’s hands froze on his buttons and he looked at the man.

“Shouldn’t have said that,” Konstantin said in the back, a wide, stupid smile on his face.

“Shut up Kostya,” Ivan said and glanced at the man. Despite the torture he had just lived through, he was about to have a fast execution. Now he would suffer. Ivan and Konstantin watched their boss select a knife. Solovyov looked them over thoughtfully taking a deep sigh.

“Tell me Anatoly,” Solovyov said sitting back down, brandishing his long serrated knife. “Are you circumcised?”

_

Solovyov changed his clothing in the bathroom connected to his office. He thoroughly scrubbed his hands and spent a good deal of time combing his hair. He could feel his blood pumping through his veins and he wished he had his little blonde photographer with him. Nothing was better than getting your dick sucked after an intense torture session. Well, perhaps sex, but he was going to have a hell of a time getting anywhere near that tight little asshole, which he more than planned on doing. Eventually he would have the boy in his bed, and then, once this photography business ended, he would no longer have to deal with the boy. It was quite an advantageous position he had found him in. If only handsome, young, gay men would try to spy on him more often, although, he was more than pleased with Caleb at the current moment.

He placed his gun at the small of his back, tucking it in between his belt and body. He stepped out of the office and made his way to the front of the club. He was surprised to see Alexander walking into the club as he was leaving.

“What are you doing here?” he asked catching his nephew by the arm.

“We open in a few hours. I came for work.,” Alexander answered, glancing down at the firm grip his uncle had on his arm. Solovyov looked back at the club. He didn’t want Alexander stumbling into the now blood soaked room before it was cleaned. While he had no real objection to Alexander joining his lifestyle, his older sister would murder him.

“Go home. I don’t need you tonight,” he said and Alexander frowned.

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t. Go home.” he said and went to his awaiting car.

“Uncle Grisha I –”

“Alexander,” Solovyov said giving him a hard look. “You take one step in that club and you’re fired.”

“Fine,” Alexander snapped and turned around, walking back to the private parking lot where he parked his car.

_

Solovyov sat down at Petrov’s table. The Russian was at a small restaurant owned by Petrov in a quite part of the city. They were the only two seated at the comfortably sized table and Petrov looked at him expectantly.

“Their interest in our warehouses weren’t strictly for inventory information as your,” Solovyov coughed, “Colleague Adrik Aleksandrovich suggested. They’re going to hit them. Not soon. They need more information on location and security before they can do anything and from the looks of things they are far too disorganized to do anything drastic anytime soon.”

“The boys cover was not blown from this event was it?”

“No sir. As far as they know he is still theirs. ”

“I want you to send the boy in. Have him offer himself for a job. I need to know more.” Petrov said running a finger over his lips. His eyes ran over Solovyov’s face. “Does that bother you?”

“Of course not,” Solovyov said. “That’s what he’s here for.”

“I don’t want your attachment for the boy to disrupt work,” Petrov said coldly.

“I have no attachment to him,” Solovyov said stiffly. “He means nothing.”

“Good,” Petrov said smiling. He opened a menu. “They have wonderful Vareniki here.”

“I am much more partial to the Pirozhki,” Solovyov said smiling stiffly.

“Ah, good man.” He glanced over his menu. “Michael was quite taken with Caleb. Spoke about him all night. Made sex quite awkward I assure you. It’s a shame you feel nothing for the boy. He seems to like you very much.”

Solovyov shifted.

“You think so?”

Petrov nodded.

“I do.”

He watched Solovyov run his hands over his lapels.

“Can I take your order?” A waitress asked coming up to their table and smiling brightly.

“That would be lovely,” Petrov said and smiled at Solovyov.

_

When Caleb got back to his dorm was gone. He plopped down on his bed and closed his eyes. He hadn’t slept well last night and his head was aching painfully. Caleb had fallen asleep in the car against his Russian. When they arrived at the club he had been gently shaken awake. Solovyov had asked him how he got to the club and Caleb informed him he took a cab. Solovyov insisted Caleb be driven home by his driver and when Caleb tried to decline Solovyov had held his chin in his hand and told him to be quiet and do as he was told. Caleb nodded and got back into the car.

He was disappointed about the lack of time he spent with the Russian today and he was slightly off put by seeing the man in the chair. He did a marvelous job of keeping any idea of what Solovyov might have done with the man. Instead he focused on what his hands felt like on his skin. The older man’s confidence and dominance was inviting to Caleb and he wanted to feel it consume him. He was one of the best looking men he had ever seen. Solovyov’s tall lean body and his distinctively Russian features made Caleb’s insides turn to liquid. Hopefully he wouldn’t have to wait too long before seeing him again.


	12. Chapter Twelve

Caleb woke up in the middle of the night to his phone beeping loudly from his night stand. He looked around the room, trying to find the source of the beeping and rubbed his eyes.

“Shut that off,” came the tired groan from Scott who flipped over onto his stomach and placed a pillow over his head. Caleb’s hand slapped at his nightstand until his hand landed on his phone. By now the beeping at stopped and the dorm was completely silent again. He flipped open his phone and saw multiple text messages from a number he didn’t recognize. When he opened the message he found a smile come to his lips.

//Got an A on my chem test!//

He added the number to his contacts under “Michael” and went to his other messages.

//This is Michael btw//

//shit just realized how late it was. I’m sorry//

//Sorry again. Im at the club w/ Iosef. Kinda bored.//

//thx for the help on the tst 2//

“Will you stop laughing.” Scott grumbled and Caleb closed his mouth. He hadn’t realized he had been laughing softly. He ignored Scott and hit reply. Scott made a very loud show of tossing and turning on his bed and sighing and groaning as he tried to fall back asleep. Caleb shook his head but said nothing.

//No problem man. Just headin 2 bed now. Need any more help with science just give me a call or we can meet up sometime. Ttyl//

He pressed send and placed the phone back on the table. He rolled back over to sleep. He could see Michael’s need for friendship, and while he didn’t really understand the kid, he wanted to help. A few more beeps went off from his cell phone, which aroused a whole new wave of groans and sighs from Scott. Caleb smiled and fell back to sleep.  
_

When Caleb woke up he had a text from one of Solovyov’s men. He was told to make a meeting with Slatkin and ask for a serious job. As a pretext for the meeting he was allowed to tell them that one of their men had been killed by Solovyov’s. Caleb was anxious but he didn’t think anything too crazy would happen, especially since until this point he had done so little for the Polish mobster.

He called his contact and was given the time and place for the meeting. He was nervous about not having anything to give Slatkin. He didn’t know how the mobster would feel about him showing up empty handed but since he was asking for a job he hoped it would be acceptable. He dressed quietly, careful not to wake Scott, who had made quite a scene trying to sleep the night before. He slipped into his jeans, put on his favorite shoes and selected a light sweater. When he opened his closet to find a jacket he winced when it squeaked. He looked over at Scott who appeared to be fast asleep.

He pulled out a light jacket and left the dorm. The campus was relatively empty as he made his way across the grounds. He used to take a lot of walks around the campus, especially at this time of the year when it was getting warmer and the snow was beginning to melt. It was his favorite time of year and he found the quiet very peaceful. When he got to the student parking lot he got into his car and started the engine. He stopped by Dunkin Donuts for a muffin and a coffee.

He stopped by the library and got a few books on portrait photography. He had a paper on lighting due in three days that he hadn’t started and suddenly became aware of how far behind in his work he was. He spent most of the day reading and trying to right at least a first draft of his paper but his mind kept floating back to Solovyov and his meeting with Slatkin.

At three thirty he went straight to the apartment building where the meeting would take place. He didn’t take his time and went straight up the apartment. When he entered Slatkin was already inside and looking over a stack of papers he had in his hands. When he looked up and saw Caleb he smiled.

“Hello.”

“Hi,” Caleb said as he was patted down. “Solovyov got one of your guys.”

Slatkin nodded gravely.

“Yes. I figured as much. I hoped he would be OK though.”

“Look, sir. I’ve been wanting to ask you…I want to work for you. For real. I was something more than just taking pictures.” Caleb looked at him pleadingly. He was a pretty good actor if he did say so himself. Slatkin smiled and nodded.

“You’d have to prove yourself if you wanted to work for me,” he said leaning back. “And I need you on Solovyov. Ah.” He said snapping his fingers. “I have had a man outside of one of Petrov’s warehouses. They switch watches every day at five o’clock. The watch leaves at five, the second doesn’t arrive until five thirty. Every day. That gives us a thirty minutes window where I want a few of my men, and now you, to go in, take a quick inventory, and then get out. It’ll be a good first job I think, little action. What do you think Tom?”

“Sounds good to me,” the man said with a shrug.

“Alright. You’ll go with Tom. I’ll send you on a few small missions. See how you do. If you prove reliable then I’ll give you more work.”

“Thank you sir,” Caleb said forcing a big smile to his face. Slatkin seemed pleased. His ego didn’t allow him to question Caleb’s eagerness to work for him over Solovyov or, more importantly, Petrov.

“Go on,” he said and Caleb stood.

“Wait… right now?” he asked, some color leaving his face.

“Is that a problem?” Slatkin asked and Caleb swallowed.

“No, of course not,” Caleb said. “Just excited to get right into it.”

The man named Tom motioned for him to follow and made his way to the door. Caleb got into the car with Tom and three other men he didn’t know. His stomach went queasy as they drove out of the city and he stared out the window, doing his very best to keep his heart rate slow. The men were completely silent for nearly the entire ride. The only time they spoke was to ask if they could turn the radio station.

It took about an hour to arrive at the warehouse in question. It was a large building in the country and appeared to be virtually deserted but still the four men were cautious. They parked nearly a mile away and made sure the car was carefully hidden on the side of the road.

They walked through the woods in order to avoid being seen. They didn’t want a carful of armed Russians to be driving down the road to come upon them and start firing. When the words “armed Russians” came out of Tom’s mouth Caleb nearly fainted. He literally saw spots. “Armed Russians” was a scary enough term in and of itself. Put it in this context and…

He knew the men he had seen at Solovyov’s club and probably all the men in the V.I.P room were armed but he had never been a target. Being the target made everything ten times more frightening.

He couldn’t even text or call Solovyov and tell him what was happening. He had been with the other men since the moment he stepped into Slatkin’s meeting and he didn’t want to blow his cover, then he most certainly would be killed. Hopefully it would be a quiet and uneventful job that would pass with no guns being fired. That would make him very, very happy.

They got to the tree line that opened up into the field the warehouse was built in. They waited, completely hidden by the brush.

“There,” Tom said pointing at the front doors. Even with the distance Caleb could see five men in casual clothes step from the large warehouse doors. The garage style doors were all shut and each one was locked with a heavy padlock. Caleb wasn’t sure how they planned on getting into the warehouse once the Russians left.

The five men piled into their car and it drove quietly down a dirt road. They all waited silently for nearly five minutes before Tom stepped from the forest.

“How do we get in?” Caleb asked. He tried to keep up with the fast paces of the other men. His shoes sunk into the wet earth under his feet and he grimaced.

“With this,” A man named Dmitri said with a smile. He held up a pair of pretty decent sized bolt cutters in his hands.

“Where the hell were you hiding those?” Caleb asked and Dmitri laughed.

“You don’t want to know,” he joked but then explained he had gotten them from the car. They got up to the large garage doors and Dmitri snapped the blots. It took three men to lift up the heavy doors and slip inside.

The warehouse was huge and filled with brown boxes. The man who had told Caleb his name was Vasily pulled one of the boxes free and pulled a knife from his pocket. He slit the box along the top and pulled it open. Caleb curiously moved closer and his mouth went dry when he looked inside.

“Is that crack?” He asked looking at the large plastic bags of pure white powder inside.

“No kid. That’s pure cocaine.” Tom said.

“All these boxes are filled with cocaine?” Caleb asked and Tom nodded.

“Looks that way,” Tom said and grabbed another box and opening it. They opened three from different sections of the warehouse and they were all the same. “Stack it by the door. I’m sure Petrov won’t mind if we take a few boxes.”

Caleb licked his lips. Something told him he would. Dmitry rounded the corner as Caleb stacked the boxes.

“Stairs over here. Leads underground.”

They moved silently to the staircase that was located in a private room toward the back of the building.

“Bohuslav keep watch. We have ten more minutes. Call us up in five,” Tom ordered and they descended down the stairs. The lower level was cooler and the air was stale. The underground level was a large room, like the upper but filled with large tables and those tables were covered with guns. Boxes were stacked along the perimeter and filled with ammunition for the different types of guns.

“I think we should go now,” Caleb suggested looking down at a nasty looking machine gun. Tom nodded.

“Yes, we got what we came for.” He said. He turned to leave but suddenly he froze.

“What’s wrong?” Dmitri asked and Caleb turned his attention away from the guns.

“I hear voices,” he whispered and the others strained to hear. Caleb’s body tensed as he listened and his eyes fluttered closed. For a few moments they heard nothing but soon soft voices made their way down the staircase and into the room.

“Hide.” Tom hissed and they all hurried to the stacked boxes, trying to find cover behind them.

Caleb positioned himself behind a few large boxes and a crate of scopes and fancy glass cases. The voices grew louder and they Caleb screwed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. He sat with the back of his head against the box behind him and stayed close to the floor.

“I need to know why those boxes were like that,” A familiar voice said and Caleb’s eyes opened.

“I know that voice,” he whispered and chanced a peak around the box. Sure enough standing there with four other men was Solovyov. He looked around the room curiously.

“Something’s off,” The Russian said softly, but the words made it to Caleb’s ears. Looking to the side Caleb spotted Tom. He was on his knees, his gun drawn, and looking up over the boxes. Caleb looked back at Solovyov then back to Tom. He bit his lip. He watched at Tom slowly cocked his gun, trying to avoid any unnecessary sound. Tom’s eyes were locked onto Solovyov, and Caleb could see the ambition in his eyes. If he could return to Slatkin and tell him he had killed Solovyov he certainly would no longer be sent on these small time jobs.

Caleb felt his stomach tighten in horror and pain at the thought of Solovyov being killed, and he reacted in a flash, impulse taking over the muscles of his body. He could not bear the thought of Solovyov hurt and as his foot struck the rack of glass cases and scopes in front of him, an image of Solovyov with a bullet hole though his skull ran through his brain. The clanging jarred everyone who heard it, breaking the stale, thick silence of the cellar.

Caleb was not looking, but the Russian’s all seemed to go on alert, all drawing their guns and crouching down slightly.

“Go see what that was,” Solovyov snapped and a man approached Caleb’s hiding place. Caleb held his breath as he waited to be caught. He knew if the man yanked him up to show Solovyov that the Russian would skillfully keep his cover while whisking him away to safety. He knew the Russian would keep him safe and take him away from all this chaos. Unfortunately, the man never made it to Caleb. He had just turned the corner, his eyes about to land on Caleb when a loud bang rang out and he fell forward limply. Blood spattered over Caleb’s face as the man fell toward him, the exit wound on his forehead larger than a golf ball.

Caleb watched as the dead man’s skull hit the hard concrete floor and could hear his skull crack. He landed face down, and his sandy blond hair was soaked with blood. Caleb felt bile rise in his throat and it took everything in him not to curl into a ball and throw up. He managed to scramble to a better hiding place. He positioned himself between the wall and a stack of boxes out of sight.

There was a moment of silence before another explosion of bullets. It was not the type of gun fight one sees in the movies. It was not a violent reign of never ending bullets but quick bursts of rounds from each man where they thought the others were. Time was taken to aim, to reload, and to reflect. But despite this seemingly anti-climactic gun fight, Caleb had never found himself more frightened. When he saw Solovyov, close to the ground, come around a stack of boxes to get a better view of Tom’s hiding spot, Caleb felt some courage return to him.

Caleb covered his head the best he could as the box keeping his head from view exploded next to him. He tried to crouch as close to the ground as he could, but flying debris scraped along his cheek and he felt a stinging pain on his face. He looked up to Solovyov who was partially hidden from his view. The Russian was calmly reloading his weapon while peering between two boxes. Caleb did not know how he managed to stay so calm, and could only assume he had been in similar situations before.

Bullets exploded over Caleb head once again and he crawled to his right, toward Solovyov, as fast as his hands and knees could take him. Every moment he was moving he was sure he would feel a bullet enter his soft brain and end his life. He was only moving for fifteen seconds at most, but it felt like an eternity, and by the time he got next to Solovyov he was hyperventilating. His heart was thundering in his chest and he could hear the blood circulating in his ears. He did know how close he came to being shot by Solovyov, who, despite his outward calmness, had nothing but fear and adrenaline coursing through him. The Russian was momentarily taken aback when a blonde head was crawling over to him, and thanks to his quick reflexes and sound judgment, did not pull the trigger.

“Fuck, Caleb,” Was the most articulate thing Solovyov could think of to say. Caleb pressed his back against the boxes and his chest heaved.

“This is your fault,” Caleb said pointing at him his eyes wide. “I blame you.”

Solovyov ducked down and pulled Caleb down with him. The Russian’s hand grabbed the back of Caleb’s head and pressed it close to his body on instinct.

“Stay closer to ground. Don’t make yourself such big target,” he said still firing in the direction of the bullets. “Where are they and how many?”

“Three down here. Tom is over there,” he said pointing to the right. “Vasily went that way and I think Dmitri is behind that big box that says fragile on it.” Solovyov did not start firing as Caleb thought he would, but instead waited to conserve his bullets. Caleb moved closer to Solovyov, tucking his body under the Russian’s arm.

“Bartrev!” Solovyov yelled.

“Da!”

“Dorogoi!”

“Da!”

“Karpin!”

“Da!”

“Lebedev!”

“Da!”

Solovyov nodded. Firing stopped for a moment and Solovyov stared in Tom’s direction, never once breaking his concentration. Caleb watched also and the moment his blonde head came into view Solovyov took the shot. The bullet entered through an eye socket and went straight through his head. Caleb immediately pressed himself back to the ground, trying to get the vision out of his mind.

“Got one!” Solovyov yelled callously for the others. Bullets rang over them and exploded the scopes to their right. The glass exploded and a spray of glass shards ripped into Caleb’s face. He grabbed his face and changed his position. He was on his knees, his torso pressed to the ground, and his hands shielding his head. He could feel the blood dripping from his skin but it was nothing especially bad.

“Got another!” another man yelled and Solovyov nodded to himself. A waterfall of bullets exploded over Caleb’s head and he was yanked out of his little ball position. Solovyov’s arm wrapped around his waist and yanked hard, pulling Caleb closer to him and shielding him from the little spaces between the boxes they were hiding behind. The Russian pulled him close, pressing Caleb’s head against him and arching his body over the boys bleeding face. Suddenly the bullets stopped and Caleb could hear heavy breathing. He was pressed against Solovyov’s body and the Russian’s arm remained wrapped around his head for a few moments.

“I got a third!”

“Are you sure there were only three?” He asked and Caleb nodded.

“Yes, there was a fourth, but he was up stairs keeping watch. He must have ran off.”

He shouted something in Russian and the others rose slowly, walking along the tables cautiously, looking for any more people. Solovyov’s hand grabbed Caleb’s chin and looked him over carefully. He unzipped Caleb’s coat and frantically ran his hands over Caleb’s chest and stomach, looking for blood.

“Are you ok? You weren’t hit?” He asked and Caleb nodded.

“The glass just hit my face,” Caleb told him, still breathless. Solovyov nodded, the fear he had felt when he thought Caleb had been hurt draining from him. He stood and helped Caleb to his feet gently, looking around. He went to kneel by his fallen comrade and Caleb saw for the first time, a softness in the Russian’s face.

“He was good man,” Solovyov said softly. “Wife just gave birth to first son.”

Caleb looked at the dead body and tried to keep himself together. His face was still bleeding but he could think of nothing but the dead men. He walked over numbly to look at Tom, Dmitriy, and Vasili. Tom’s eyes were still open, staring up at the ceiling blankly, all signs of life gone from his body. His eyes did not leave the body until he felt Solovyov’s hand on his arm.

“You don’t need to see this Caleb,” he said softly. “Go upstairs with Karpin.”

Caleb nodded and went to the man who seemed to be waiting for him. As he walked up the stairs his knees shook and in a surprisingly tender gesture from the mobster walking next to him, his arm wrapped around Caleb’s chest, under his arms, and helped him up the stairs. Caleb whispered a thank you and Karpin nodded.

“Not easy,” was all he said. Caleb nodded. Karpin made sure he was alright, leaving him to sit against the wall of the warehouse where the Russian’s had parked by. Solovyov walked up the stairs nearly two hours later and still did not go straight to Caleb. He spoke to his group of Russian’s, all speaking nervously to each other. Caleb watched silently. His stomach ached terribly, and his eyes wanted nothing more than to let out the torrent of tears that were begging to be let free. Still, he could not. He was a man, and men didn’t cry, especially not in front of men like these.

The door Caleb was seated next to flung open violently, and Caleb was almost crushed between it in the door. Luckily, Karpin had had the sense to place him a good five feet away from it. When he looked up he felt all his fear return to him. Standing there, his face red with anger, the most out of control anyone had ever seen him, was Petrov. His eyes scanned over Solovyov and his Russians, before he looked to his right and left, finding Caleb.

“You,” Petrov said and pointed at Caleb. Caleb felt sick as he looked up into his fiery blue eyes. Petrov’s deep voice was harsh and loud, causing Caleb to want to sink into himself. His eyes were hard and his jaw fixed in place as he looked down at Caleb. “Explain this to me.”

Solovyov stayed silent but he came to stand closer to Caleb. Caleb slowly got up from the floor, keeping his body close to the wall as he struggled to find the right words.

“I went to Slatkin, like I was told, and he said he’d start me off on a job today. I didn’t have time to call anyone and I was afraid if I sent a text they’d see it. We were supposed to check out the warehouse. We were only supposed to be here for about fifteen minutes. When the watches changed,” Caleb said and looked to Solovyov who was looking at Petrov.

“I thought I told you to tighten up security,” Petrov snapped.

“I did.”

“Clearly not good enough,” Petrov said and looked at the boxes that had been opened by Slatkin’s men.

“I’ll take care of it,” Solovyov said.

“You’d best,” he said. “I’ll deal with things here. Go back to the club. Put three more men on security. Move Yuri up from the south side if you need to. This place will be guarded every minute of every day. No more watch layovers. Understand?”

“Yes sir,” Solovyov said stiffly and motioned for Caleb to follow him. Solovyov had made up his mind. He’d drop Caleb off and inform him that he was no longer needed. If Petrov got angry with him for it he would take the scolding later. When he had seen Caleb caught in the fray Solovyov had felt a terror seize him that he had never felt before. He had been in countless gun battles, but never once had he felt fear. He knew how to take care of himself, but when he saw Caleb, so vulnerable and frightened, and so unable to take care of himself in such a situation he had felt utterly helpless. Reflecting on his behavior, and realizing that he had actually used his own body to shield Caleb angered him. He had put himself in a dangerous situation for the safety of another and he was not willing to do that again. He had to cut off contact immediately or his feelings would grow to his own detriment. No one was worth his life, and he was going to make sure to end things before he was put in such a situation. He would find a lover that did not inspire such feelings inside his chest.

The feeling of terror he’d had when he thought Caleb had been hit was disturbing. The sooner he cut ties with the boy the better. He didn’t even care if he hadn’t got what he wanted out of him. It was supposed to be sex without feelings. Once feelings come into play you cut and ran, and that is what he planned to do. He could surrender the conquest. His continuing feeling of indifference toward love was more important.

They both got into Solovyov’s car silently. Caleb gently touched the side of his aching face, his lower lip trembling slightly. As they drove down the street he let out a long, shaky breath. Solovyov glanced at him a moment, but said nothing and made no move to comfort him.

“Their car is over there,” Caleb said pointing to the left. Solovyov said nothing and looked straight ahead. Solovyov, against his better judgment, looked over at Caleb once again. Caleb’s elbow was resting against the car where the window meets the door. His thumb was pressed to one eye, the four fingers to the other. His head was faced slightly downward. He looked back to the road and back to Caleb. His shoulders shook gently and Caleb turned his face away, trying to pretend to look out the window.

“Caleb?” Solovyov said and waited for a response. When he didn’t receive one he pulled the car to the side of the road. He told himself to just keep driving, get rid of Caleb and move on, but he could not. His body seemed to be moving without his control “Caleb.”

Solovyov gently put a hand on Caleb’s back and felt a shudder run through him.

“I’ve never seen someone die,” Caleb whispered and sniffled. Solovyov commended him for his attempt not to cry.

“It’s difficult your first time,” Solovyov said and Caleb nodded. Solovyov ran a hand over Caleb’s hair. He felt an odd tugging in his chest as he watched the boy cry.

“I don’t want to be alone tonight,” Caleb whispered. He looked up at Solovyov, his eyes big and brimming with tears. “Can I go home with you?”

Solovyov looked at him a moment. He felt his resolve begin to crumble and he willed himself to look away. His eyes remained on Caleb against his will, however and when Caleb’s slim, pink lips began to tremble he gave in.

“Yes.”


	13. Chapter Thirteen

“I need to make a phone call,” Solovyov told Caleb as he pulled back onto the road. Caleb nodded and looked back out at the passing trees. Caleb was trying so hard to keep from crying that he zoned everything else out around him. He did not hear Solovyov’s deep, rich voice speaking Russian into his cell phone, he did not feel the stinging pain in his cheek, and he hardly saw where they were driving to. He hardly heard Solovyov when the Russian hung up the phone and addressed him.

“I didn’t know they would throw you right in. I thought that I would have time to prepare you.”

Caleb only nodded. Solovyov’s knuckles tightened on the stirring wheel. Despite not wanting to get to attached to him, Solovyov did not want Caleb to think that he had simply thrown him to the wolves with no concern to his well being. He was not completely heartless, nor did he feel content about Caleb thinking him so.

“Are we going home?” Caleb asked. His voice was soft and tired.

“Yes.”

It was dark by now and Caleb looked up at the stars. Over and over again he saw the bullet ripping through the Russian’s skull, his head slamming against the concrete ground. Then he saw Tom’s lifeless eyes staring up at the ceiling, his soul now gone from the world. It was a strange feeling. To know that a man who had been alive and with you only seconds ago was dead…it was a surreal feeling. When they pulled into Solovyov’s house Caleb got out of the car quickly and walked to the door ahead of Solovyov.

The house was cool when they entered and Caleb waited by the stairs while Solovyov turned the heat on.

“I don’t see the need to heat the house when I’m not here,” he explained and gently took Caleb’s elbow, guiding him upstairs. Caleb was shakey on his feet and Solovyov could see he was in a form of shock. He just stared off into space, his skin pasty and white, at least three shades lighter than it normally was. Solovyov hesitated at a guest bedroom…he preferred the term extra bedroom since only Caleb had ever slept in there…but pushed on to his own room.

He flicked on the lights when he entered, telling Caleb to sit on the bed before he went to his adjoining bathroom. Caleb looked around the room curiously. It was bare for the most part. There were books neatly stacked on his night stand and two pictures on the dresser. They were the only signs that anyone inhabited the room. Caleb with suddenly struck with how lonely a life Solovyov must have had, and still had to this day.

“Come into bathroom with me,” Solovyov said and Caleb followed him. When they got in Solovyov tapped the sink. “Jump up.”

Caleb did and watched as Solovyov poured a clear substance onto a cloth.

“Turn your cheek,” he said and gently placed the cloth to Caleb’s torn skin. Caleb sucked in a breath but Solovyov only looked at him. “It will sting.”

“No kidding,” Caleb said and Solovyov continued to clean his face.

“It could have been much worse,” Solovyov said looking Caleb’s cheek over. “Nothing too deep.”

Caleb nodded. He watched Solovyov’s face as the man tossed the cloth in a hamper and placed the bottle back in the cabinet. Caleb slipped from the sink and back to his feet. He shyly reached out and took Solovyov’s hand. Solovyov, surprised for a moment, gripped Caleb’s hand and led him back to the bedroom.

“Let’s get this off,” he said lifting up Caleb’s shirt. Caleb lifted up his arms and Solovyov through the shirt on the floor. Solovyov unbuckled his belt and Caleb stepped out of his jeans. Reaching around him Solovyov pulled down the covers and nudged Caleb inside.

When Caleb was in bed he looked up at Solovyov. “Aren’t you coming in?”

“In a moment,” he said and began to unbutton his shirt. He walked around to the other side of the bed and tossed his shirt on a nearby chair. Caleb’s lips parted slightly when he saw Solovyov shirtless. He had strong, muscular arms and a strong broad chest. His abdomen was smooth, not overly defined but strong and attractive. What really got Caleb’s attention was not his body but the ink that covered it. He had seen people with more tattoos, but Solovyov had never seemed like the type of man to have tattoos. Solovyov looked at Caleb, down at himself and then back to Caleb.

“Do you not like them?” he asked and Caleb shook his head.

“No, I do,” he said and Solovyov slid out of his pants and tossed them to the side. When he got into bed Caleb shyly reached up and ran a hand over his chest.

“I will tell you what they mean some time,” he said and Caleb nodded. Solovyov’s statement had meant, in no uncertain terms, that Caleb was not to ask right now. Solovyov ran his knuckles over Caleb’s unharmed cheek and tilted his head.

“You do not look well,” Solovyov said softly and shut the light off. He could feel Caleb’s trembling body scoot closer to him. The Russian wrapped an arm around his slender waist and pulled him closer. Caleb’s nose pressed closer to Solovyov’s chest and he inhaled deeply. The strong, masculine scent filled his senses and he felt a sense of security envelop him.

“What now?”

“You go to sleep,” Solovyov said rubbing his back gently.

“I mean with Slatkin,” he whispered. He always felt the need to whisper when he was in bed and it was dark. “Do I go back to see him?”

“I don’t know,” Solovyov said stiffly. He didn’t know if Caleb’s cover had been blown and Solovyov didn’t want to risk him going back. That didn’t mean Petrov didn’t.

“I don’t want to,” Caleb said and looked up at Solovyov in desperation. “Please don’t make me.”

Solovyov cupped Caleb’s face and ran his thumb over his lips. He could not bring himself to reject the big, watery eyes looking up at him.

“Then you don’t have too,” Solovyov told him gently, making a promise he wasn’t sure he could keep. Caleb shivered and moved even closer to Solovyov. “But then our relationship will have to come to an end.”

He felt Caleb stiffen and look up at him. There was a hurt in his eyes that actually cased Solovyov to look away. He closed his eyes and rested his head on the pillow. He knew his resolve would crumble if he looked at him.

“Why?” Caleb asked. His voice was strained as he spoke.

“What we have is nothing more than business relationship. We would have no reason to meet if business is terminated.”

“We could see each other anyway,” Caleb said gently. He lowered his head again pressed his forehead into Solovyov’s chest. Solovyov felt Caleb’s soft hair on his chest and felt a slender hand grip his arm hard.

“And do what, Caleb? I don’t date,” he said and Caleb felt his chin tremble involuntarily. “Are you crying Caleb?”

“No,” Caleb said and wiped his eyes. He felt the tears roll out and felt like a fool in front of the older man. “This is too much for tonight.”

He had already reached his emotional limit; he didn’t need this on top of it.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Solovyov said when Caleb moved away from him.

“You didn’t, I’m just feeling emotional.”

Caleb turned his back to Solovyov and felt his chest constrict. It was painful being so close and in bed with the Russian and not crawl into his arms.

“Yes I did,” Solovyov said and moved closer to him. He didn’t like seeing Caleb in pain. The boy was making things more and more difficult as each second passed. Solovyov couldn’t help but find himself attempting to comfort him. He pressed his chest against Caleb’s smooth back and wrapped his arms around him. Caleb melted into him, relishing in the comfort of a warm body. He had never been held before. Solovyov placed a soft kiss to his bare shoulder and sighed. “I don’t understand what we would do is all. Especially since you won’t sleep with me.”

“Don’t you ever feel empty?” Caleb asked ignoring Solovyov’s question.

“What do you mean?”

“Having sex with people you don’t care about,” Caleb clarified and Solovyov ran a hand over Caleb’s stomach.

“It’s just sex,” he answered and kissed Caleb’s skin again. He couldn’t help himself and he continued to add soft kisses to his shoulder. He could hardly believe he had a twenty one year old boy in his bed in nothing but his boxers and he was simply holding him in his arms, in his own bedroom none the less.

“Mr. Solovyov?” Caleb said his voice barely a whisper.

“Considering the circumstances Caleb, you may call me Grigori,” he told him softly and tucked a strand of hair behind his ear.

“Grigori,” his name on Caleb’s lips sounded beautiful. “is it my fault?”

“Is what your fault?”.

“the murders,” his voice trembled as he spoke.

“No Caleb. Not at all.”

“But had I not been there –”

“ –had you not been there nothing would have changed. They still would have been killed.” Solovyov cut him off. “I can promise that. People die in this business every day.”

“But I kicked the cases. I made the noise that told you we were there...if I…had I not...I –”

“I would have been killed then,” Solovyov said and let the words sink in a moment. He lowered his head and inhaled against Caleb’s hair. “Do you still regret your choice?”

“No,” He whispered. “I couldn’t imagine anything happening to you.”

The words sent a strange warmth fluttering inside Solovyov’s stomach.

“It was not your fault, Caleb. I promise. I pulled the trigger, not you.”

Caleb rolled over and snuggled into Solovyov’s strong body. The Russian’s arms wrapped around him protectively.

“You will come to terms with tonight’s events. Now go to sleep,” Solovyov ordered gently and Caleb nodded, closing his eyes. He felt the strong hand running through his hair and the calm, steady breaths of the man laying next to him and he slowly fell into sleep.

_

When Caleb woke up he was alone in bed and sun was shining in through an open window. The temperature was comfortable and the fresh air was good for his senses. He felt a little better than he had last night. Solovyov’s reassurances had calmed him and as he played the night over in his head he wouldn’t have changed it. Well, he would have chosen not to be there in the first place. He was going to stop doing any jobs for any mobsters from now on and he’d be damned if he let Solovyov brush him off afterward.

Throwing the covers off of him Caleb slipped on his jeans. He sat on the bed and looked around. He couldn’t imagine anyone living in a room that had so little personality. Caleb had always thought that he could tell a lot of a person based on what was inside their room but Solovyov’s was bare. The walls were empty, no knickknacks on the nightstand, nothing besides the two pictures on the dresser and a small stack of books on the nightstand.

Caleb stood, walking passed the books, they were in Russian script, he would learn nothing from those, and went to the pictures. He picked up the one closest picture. Neither were framed and looked to be in decent shape but age was obvious. What he saw made him smile.

It was obviously Solovyov, if a very young Solovyov. He was standing in front of the Kremlin in Moscow, his hands in his pockets and a smile on his face. It was odd seeing Solovyov in jeans and a t shirt, having his picture taken like a normal person. Placing the picture down he picked up the other.

The first thing Caleb noticed was a small, but comfortable white house. Snow covered the landscape and smoke was coming out of the chimney. It looked cozy and Caleb could imagine that inside the house it was warm and the smell of homemade meals in the air. He noticed the person in the picture second.

Again, it was Solovyov. Caleb recognized the high cheekbones, strong jaw and penetrating gaze even in his youth. He was staring at the camera, his cheeks flushed and a blank look on his face. The person taking the picture probably didn’t even know Solovyov had been sitting there. His head was covered in a warm looking hat that wrapped over his ears and tied at the chin.

“That was my home.”

Solovyov’s voice made him jump and he heard the rich chuckle from the Russian. Caleb turned around and smiled.

“It’s nice,” he said and Solovyov took the picture and looked at it.

“It was a shithole,” Solovyov replied and Caleb flushed.

“Why do you keep the picture then?”

“It was my home.” Solovyov said.

“I like the hat,” Caleb said and Solovyov tossed the picture back on the dresser.

“It is Ushanka. Means ear hat,” he said and stepped back to knot his tie. “We have a meeting with Petrov in an hour. You should go shower. Don’t look so scared.” Solovyov laughed. “he’s not mad at you.”

“Seemed it last night,” Caleb said biting his lip.

“He was angry with the situation.” Solovyov said and jerked his head. “Shower.”

Caleb nodded and walked passed him and into the bathroom. 

_

When Caleb got out of the shower he quickly slipped on his clothes, which were wrinkled but not particularly dirty. Solovyov was sitting on the bed, which he had been made, with a book in his lap and he read with a thoughtful expression on his face. Caleb slipped his shirt on over his head and Solovyov looked up, closing the book and placing it back on the night stand.

“Let’s go.” Solovyov said and Caleb followed him into the garage.

“Can we get something to eat?” Caleb asked and Solovyov shook his head.

“We are going to a restaurant.”

“Oh,” Caleb said. They walked into the garage and a light popped on showing a single car. It was a beautiful silver BMW with black leather interior. Caleb whistled as he looked in through a window. “Nice car.”

“I don’t know why I bought it. I never drive it,” he answered getting into the car. Caleb followed and looked around the interior.

“My parents were torn between getting me a BMW a Mercedes or a Jaguar xj. They ended up getting me a Volvo xj. Nice car, but shit I wanted that jag,” he said. Solovyov placed his hand on the back of Caleb’s head rest and turned. He backed out of the driveway with a frown on his face.

“Why are you working for the Russian Mafia trying to get money when your parents have the options of buying you those cars?”

Watching Solovyov drive was odd for Caleb. It made the Russian seem more like a regular human being than the untouchable Russian mobster he had appeared previously.

“Oh, my parents don’t talk to me anymore. Well, my dad sent me a birthday card a few months back and some extra cash. But other than that I have no contact with them.”

“Why?”

“Because I switched to photography as my major,” Caleb told him trying to straighten out his shirt.

“That’s a major?”

“Yes,” Caleb said shortly and Solovyov chuckled. “Where are we going?”

“Rossiya. It’s a very small restaurant in Queens.”

“Holy shit,” Caleb said when he looked at the clock. “It is really twelve thirty?”

“Yes,” Solovyov replied. “You didn’t fall asleep until about twelve last night.” Solovyov didn’t know what possessed him, but he reached out and placed a hand on the back of Caleb’s head and ran a hand over his hair. “Are you feeling better?”

“A little,” Caleb said looking at his lap. Solovyov nodded but remained silent, putting his hand back on the steering wheel.

“Don’t speak to Petrov unless he speaks to you first,” he said and Caleb nodded. When they got to the restaurant a man in a suit came out to stand by the car. Solovyov guided Caleb by the arm into the restaurant. He exchanged a few words with a man in Russian before he walked to a table in the back. Petrov was already seated when they arrived and he looked up from his menu with a warm smile.

“Hello, Grigori. Caleb,” He greeted them and looked back at the menu. “Sleep well?”

He moved his eyes up to look at Solovyov and smiled slyly. Caleb missed the look.

“Yes sir, thank you,” Solovyov said and Petrov sighed placing the menu down on the table.

“Messy business, Grisha,” he said. “I’m thinking of sending the men to the mattresses.”

“So soon?”

“I see no other alternative. I have a dead man,” Petrov said. “And I don’t know if they know about him.”

He pointed at Caleb.

“He doesn’t want to go back in.” Solovyov told him and Caleb looked for Petrov’s reaction. His face remained neutral.

“I actually have a new job for him,” Petrov said and looked to Caleb.

“He doesn’t want to –”

“Let the boy make his own decision Grigori. Really,” Petrov shook his head. “He can be so commandeering sometimes no?” He asked Caleb and the boy shrugged with a blush. “What I want you to do…” He glanced at Grigori before looking back at Caleb. “Is tutor Michael.”

Caleb’s eyebrows shot up and Solovyov looked thoroughly confused.

“Putting you back in that mess would only serve to get you killed, I know that. Michael seems to like you very much and he is struggling with his schoolwork.” He paused a moment. “Well?”

“I’d love too,” Caleb said and Petrov nodded.

“Good. If you would leave your class schedule with Grigori. He can give it to one of my men. Then I can set times for you to work with Michael.” He clapped his hands together. “Will he be staying to eat?”

“Yes,” Solovyov said and looked over at Caleb. Petrov asked something in Russian and Solovyov shook his head. Petrov looked at Caleb for a moment and nodded.

“That’s too bad,” Petrov said and Caleb looked between the two with a frown.

“Can I get you your drinks?” A young waitress asked and Petrov smiled.

“That would be lovely. Moskovskaya.”

“Stolichnaya.” Solovyov said.

“Um. Diet coke.”

Solovyov and Petrov both smiled and picked up their menus.

“What?” He asked and Solovyov shook his head.

“Nothing.”

“They will not check your ID,” Petrov said. “I own the place.”

“I’m twenty one. I just don’t like alcohol.” Caleb told him.

“Even vodka?” Petrov asked.

“Even Vodka,” Caleb laughed feeling a bit more at ease and he opened his menu. He scratched and forehead and tilted his head. “It’s in Russian.”

“Very astute,” Solovyov observed and Petrov smiled down at his own menu. Caleb looked at a picture of something that looked appetizing and pointed at the name that went along with it.

“What is nen-buh,meh-nnn?” Caleb asked and Solovyov leaned over to look at the dish Caleb was pointing at.

“Pelmeni. Those aren’t N’s Caleb. And that isn’t a B. This one here is a ‘Peh’ sound. That sounds like an ‘L’. ‘M’. ‘E’” He said pointing at each letter.

“Wait, wait wait, that’s not an L.” Caleb said and Solovyov moved closer.

“It makes the sound of an ‘L’” Caleb got a strong whiff of Solovyov’s scent and he felt butterflies in his stomach.

“So when you see that you think ‘L’?”

“Yes.” Solovyov said and Caleb shook his head.

“Damn,” Caleb said and frowned. He couldn’t understand how that made sounds.

Petrov watched the exchange and noted the fact that Solovyov did not shift his chair away from Caleb. He closed his menu and placed it on the table.

“I just remembered I have a big meeting to attend to,” Petrov said standing and Solovyov moved to his feet also, a look of surprise on his face. Caleb followed suit but Petrov held his hands up. “Please, you two stay and eat. On me. I am very sorry I cannot stay. And Caleb, the Pelmeni here is to die for.”

Petrov shook hands with Solovyov and then Caleb before turning to leave.

“I will call you about your boy Grigori,” Petrov said and walked from the restaurant. Solovyov watched him depart with a frown on his face.

“That was odd.”

“Did I do something?” Caleb asked worried and Solovyov shook his head and sat down.

“No, he did not appear angry. Sit down, we will eat.”

“I can’t read the menu,” Caleb said sitting down and scooting closer to Solovyov.

“You would like the Pelmeni. It is like a dumpling. You choose the filling.”

“What should I fill it with?”

“Meat,” Solovyov said and Caleb inhaled his saliva and began coughing loudly. There was no mistaking his tone, but Solovyov ignored Caleb, as if nothing inappropriate was said. A waitress immediately ran over with their drinks. She placed the diet coke down in front of Caleb immediately for him to drink from. Once they placed the glasses of vodka down at the table she looked to Solovyov.

“Is Mr. Petrov not dining with you this afternoon?”

“He had business,” Solovyov answered.

“Oh. Well can I take your orders?” She asked with a smile and got her pen out. Caleb was holding the menu upside down at this point and Solovyov took it from his hands.

“I will have the Pirozhki with onion, mushroom, meat and rice,” Caleb opened his mouth to speak but Solovyov got there first. “And Caleb will have the Pelmeni with beef and lamb.” He handed her the menus and she nodded taking them away.

“I don’t understand how you could learn a whole new alphabet.” Caleb said after a moment of silence. Solovyov sipped his vodka.

“It was not as hard as you think. I said a lot of strange things when I first came to America though.”

“Like what?” Caleb wrapped his lips around his straw and Solovyov eyed him a moment.

“For instance. Instead of saying, ‘I want you in my bed’” Caleb coughed. “I would say ‘I am of the strong desire to have you in my bed.’” He said the last example with an exaggerated version of his Russian accent and Caleb blushed at him.

“I don’t know if it’s the way you’re saying it or what you’re saying but it’s kinda sexy,” Caleb said with a shy smile.

“Most likely both.”

“Did you say anything else funny?” He asked and Solovyov thought a moment.

“Instead of ‘I Like’ I would constantly say,” again he spoke in a thicker accent. “’Dis is to my liking.’” Caleb giggled as he sipped from his soda. “I still fail to use my articles.”

“Like the and ‘a’?” Solovyov nodded at Caleb. “What else?”

Solovyov would normally have thought he was being laughed at if the boys smile was not so sweet.

“This one was a source of great embarrassment for me.” Solovyov rose from the chair slightly to turn his chair to face Caleb better, because they were still seated beside eachother. “One of my first meetings with Petrov, I was twenty five. We were speaking in Russian because it is our language of choice when together. And he asked if I spoke English.”

Caleb could see behind his playful eyes there was a mixture of anger and embarrassment.

“I said, in English, ‘I am of knowledge to speak English.’ And you see I was very excited because I remembered to say ‘to speak’ instead of just ‘speak’. Well his one of his henchman was there. Thought it was hysterical. I speak better English than he does now.” He looked down at the table. “Grammatically, my accent is thicker than his.”

“I like your accent.” Caleb said. “You’ve got that sexy Russian mobster thing going on.”

“I am a Russian mobster,” he said leaning forward slightly and Caleb grinned. For a moment Caleb thought Solovyov was going to lean forward farther and kiss him but a plate of steaming food was placed in front of Caleb and he pulled back.

“Here you go,” Their waitress said placing down Solovyov’s meal. “If you need anything at all just tell me.”

“Thank you,” Solovyov said and watched Caleb sniff his food.

“I had Russian food once.”

“Yes?”

“It sucked,” Caleb said and Solovyov smiled, cutting through the bread.

“I suppose you would prefer a cheeseburger.”

“They have those here?” Caleb asked and Solovyov pointed his knife at Caleb who started laughing, popping a dumpling into his mouth.

“Not bad,” he said chewing. “In Soviet Russia you no eat food. Food eat you.”

Caleb did his best to mimic Solovyov’s accent before laughing at his joke.

“What was that?” Solovyov asked.

“You’ve never heard that joke? In Soviet Russia you no hunt bear, bear hunt you.”

Solovyov frowned as Caleb laughed.

“I do not understand this joke. Bears don’t hunt people.”

“They do in Russia,” Caleb said. “How about this one. In Soviet Russian you don’t find party. Party finds you.”

Solovyov looked at him a moment before smiling.

“That one is slightly amusing,” he said and finished off his meal. Caleb had already finished and was leaning back in his chair.

“Since this is on your boss can I get some dessert,” Caleb asked and looked around. Most people were out of ear shot. “I’ll lick it off your dick.” Solovyov looked at him and leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs.

“Do not make such promises. I am inclined to make you keep them.”

His face was soft but his eyes hot and Caleb felt his cock stir.

“I really must be getting to work. Perhaps next time.”

Solovyov stood and dropped two twenties on the table.

“I thought Petrov was paying?”

“Tip.” Solovyov said and Caleb balked at the tip as they walked away. “Did you bring your car Caleb? Last night?”

“No. I can take a cab back,” Caleb told him and Solovyov nodded. Once outside Solovyov took a step closer to Caleb and placed a hand on the side of his neck.

“Why don’t you come back to my house? I can work from my office and afterward we can…spend time together,” He suggested and Caleb looked up.

“We could watch a movie,” The innocence in Caleb’s eyes touched Solovyov, but he was disappointed his ‘invitation’ went unanswered.

“Of course,” Solovyov said and Caleb nodded happily, getting into Solovyov’s car.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

Solovyov got into the car silently and said nothing the entire ride to home. He would sometimes glance over to look at Caleb, but the blonde had his head turned away from him, toward the window, and did not notice the Russian’s gaze. Solovyov was attempting to reconcile his growing acceptance of his relationship with Caleb and his original intentions. He did not want to cause the boy any pain, but he did not want a relationship either. On top of that, he was determined to have Caleb’s virginity, and after that and, depending on how good he is, a few good fucks, ending their relationship. But now everything was becoming far too complicated.

He tried to tell himself that he was only allowing Caleb to come over to his house… to watch a movie no less… was because he was trying to get Caleb to trust his intentions, but he was not so ignorant to believe that. He knew he was growing feelings for Caleb. He knew he was getting dangerously close for caring for him. That was why he was so conflicted. He knew the best thing for him to do would be to cut and run now, but he simply did not want to. He wanted Caleb, emotionally as well as physically. He had absolutely no idea what to do.

“I have few hours of work. And then we can watch movie,” Solovyov said, breaking his own train of thought.

“Sounds good,” Caleb said looking over at the Russian. He watched a muscle tick in Solovyov’s jaw and Caleb took a moment to admire his masculine features. He felt a little tingle in his stomach as he looked at him, and when he turned back to the window a small smile was on his face.

When they entered the house Caleb was directed into the living room and sat on the couch. Solovyov was short and abrupt, but Caleb did not read too much into it. It was really just his way.

“Don’t touch anything, and stay here. The bathroom is down that hall and to the right,” Solovyov said and unbuttoned his suit jacket.

“Ok,” Caleb said and nodded. Solovyov seemed very serious about his not moving from this room unless it was to use the bathroom, but all that did was send a surge of curiosity through him. Solovyov nodded shortly and walked away to his study. Caleb grabbed the remote and went to open the entertainment center. A beautiful black flat screen was behind the rich oak doors and Caleb whistled softly. He didn’t understand why Solovyov didn’t stay at his home more often. But after thinking about that a moment he realized why. This house would be horribly depressing with no one else in it.

About two hours later he got up to use the bathroom. Walking down the bare blue hallway he found the bathroom and relieved himself. Walking out of the bathroom he looked into the room directly across the hall. It was a medium sized room with a large table in the center. There was a filled bookcase on the far side of the room but otherwise it was empty. He looked down the hall and listened for Solovyov and heard nothing. His curiosity returned in full force and against his better judgment walked into the room. He moved cautiously, making sure to listen for any approaching footsteps or other sounds. Once inside he could see the table was covered with unlocked briefcases.

Looking over his shoulder again he placed a hand on the briefcase and slowly opened it. Sitting inside of the velvet lined interior were knives of various sizes. He ran a finger over one of the blades and let out a breath. Looking at the other briefcases he could only assume that these too were filled with knives.

One, a relatively small knife with a dark wooden handle and a sharp silver tip caught his eyes and he picked it up. He ran his fingers along the blade and jumped when his sensitive finger tips were sliced open. He dropped the blade and shoved his middle and pointer finger into his mouth. He sucked on his fingers a moment before taking them from his mouth to look at them. It was not deep, but the blood seeped from the cut and it stung painfully. He picked up the knife he dropped and placed it back in the case and snapped the case shut.

He turned, bringing his fingers back to his mouth. As he turned his eyes landed on Solovyov and he took an involuntary step back. The Russian was leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed and his eyebrows slightly raised.

“I said bathroom was to right. Not left,” he said and Caleb slowly brought his finger tips from his mouth.

“I got curious,” Caleb said forcing a smile. It quickly faded when Solovyov’s face stayed firm and he pushed himself away from the doorframe. Solovyov walked toward Caleb and looked over the boys shoulder. He reached around Caleb and opened the suitcase. When he picked up the knife that Caleb had cut himself on he held it in front of the boy’s face.

“There’s blood on it,” he mused. “What is it American’s say. ‘Curiosity killed the cat?’”

Caleb’s lips parted slightly.

“I’m not angry.” Solovyov said and smiled. He nudged Caleb out of the way and grabbed a small cloth, wiping the blade clean. “Only annoyed you chose not to obey my instructions,”

He placed the knife back in its case.

“And you’re used to having boys obey you?” he asked with a twinkle in his eyes and Solovyov smirked. Their lips were only a few inches apart at this point and Solovyov could see Caleb’s desire in his eyes. Everything in his wanted to lower his head and claim the boy’s lips but he refrained. He couldn’t yet. He needed Caleb to come for him. Once Caleb thought their relationship was something more than physical he’d get what he wanted. He pulled back and smiled.

“Ready?” He asked and Caleb nodded. Solovyov turned and made his way from the room. While in the hallway he felt slender fingers slide into his hand and he smiled. He looked back at Caleb who was looking at the floor and blushing deeply. “What do you want to watch?”

“I don’t know,” Caleb shrugged. “You choose.”

“I don’t watch movies,” Solovyov said. “I wouldn’t know what to watch.”

Caleb sat down on the couch and grabbed the remote. He flipped to the movie section and began to scan the screen. Solovyov sat down, his back straight and his feet on the floor. Caleb, after curling his legs up underneath him, frowned at him.

“You’re not going to sit like that are you?” He asked and Solovyov looked down at himself.

“What is wrong with how I am sitting?”

“It’s so stiff,” Caleb said and looked back at the screen. Solovyov frowned and tried to relax his body but didn’t know how. “Wanna watch something funny or something scary?”

“I rarely find movies funny.”

“I thought you didn’t watch movies?”

“I don’t”

“Ok then. Let’s watch Shutter Island.” He said and selected the movie. He leaned back and looked at Solovyov.  
“At least take the jacket off.” Caleb said. “And the tie.”

“I am comfortable this way.” Caleb got up onto his knees and moved toward Solovyov. “Here. I’ll do it.”

Caleb helped Solovyov slip out of his jacket and unknotted his tie. He placed it down on the table, “Better?”

“I suppose.”

“Take your shoes off,” Caleb said and the Russian slipped out of his shoes. “Can you take this shirt off.” Caleb said placing his hands on Solovyov abdomen and biting his lip. Solovyov reluctantly nodded and let the boy unbutton his shirt. Caleb placed the shirt with his jacket and tie before running his hands over the Russian’s strong arms. His white undershirt fit to his body beautifully and Caleb admired him a few moments before speaking again. “Better?”

“I’m not used to being so underdressed,” Solovyov said feeling a little uncomfortable and oddly vulnerable. Caleb smiled and moved to the back of the couch.

“Now put your feet up,” Caleb told him. Again, Solovyov did as Caleb told and put his feet up on the couch. He lay stiffly against the couch and frowned. It wasn’t until Caleb lay down as well, his back against Solovyov and snuggled between him and the back of the couch that Solovyov felt himself beginning to relax. “Better now?”

“I like this,” Solovyov said and wrapped his arms around Caleb. Caleb reached forward, grabbed the remote and hit resume before settling back down to watch the movie. Throughout the film Caleb ran his fingers over the visible tattoos on the Russian’s arms. On his right forearm was a large ship, its sails unset. He continued to run his fingers over the inked skin and Solovyov looked down at him.

“Would you like to know what they mean?” he asked and Caleb nodded. “That one means I spent most of my life roaming around, going from place to place. The sails are not set because I spent no years in prison. If I had one sail would be set for each year,” he said and Caleb nodded again. The Russian rotated his arm so his inner arm was shown.

“A Celtic cross?” Caleb asked and Solovyov smiled.

“It appears to be, but it is actually cross in crosshairs. It means I am living a life that will, eventually, meet tragic or untimely end.”

“That’s morbid., Caleb said his stomach tightening slightly.

“It is reality,” He said and showed the other arm. “Recognize this?”

“Looks like the grim reaper,” Caleb said and ran a finger along the edges.

“It means I order the deaths of others.”

On impulse Caleb snapped his fingers back as if the skin as burned him.

“Still want to know what the others mean?” He asked and Caleb nodded. “The pirate,” he said showing the back of his forearm. “means I have committed robbery. The skull as the pirates head means I killed someone doing it.”

Solovyov felt Caleb stiffen. Caleb knew Solovyov had killed people. Hell he saw him murder someone only last night, but hearing him speak of it was disconcerting.

“What did you use?” Caleb asked and Solovyov thought a moment.

“Will it disturb you to know?” He asked. Caleb shook his head. “A machete.”

“A what?”

“You heard me,” Solovyov said. “It’s with my knives. In that room.”

He pointed toward the room that Caleb had been in earlier.

“You said you didn’t kill innocent people.” Caleb said, the movie forgotten.

“I never said they were innocent.” He said. “The man I killed was a cocaine dealer and a pimp.”

“Doesn’t mean they deserved to die,” Caleb said tracing his finger over the skull. He sat up and looked at Solovyov. “Can I see the others.”

Solovyov nodded and removed his shirt. Once it was off Caleb rested a hand on Solovyov abdomen. He placed his pointer finger on a bird that was flying over an ocean and a sunrise. It was a beautiful picture and was relatively small. It was located right over his hip and it plain black ink.

“That means I was born free and will remain free. You will find a lot of Russian Mafia tattoos have to do with freedom from the law and prison.”

Caleb nodded.

“I like this one.” He said, unsure if he wanted the others described to him.

“Not the others?”

“This one isn’t as…” Caleb trailed off and nibbled on his bottom lip.

“Disturbing?” Caleb nodded.

“You love knives so much. I’m surprised you wouldn’t have a knife or something,” Caleb said and Solovyov smiled sourly.

“In Russian Prison system daggers are usually forcibly applied to sex offenders. If I were to be arrested and subsequently deported I would hate to arrive in prison with brand of sex offender.”

“Oh,” Caleb said blushing. Solovyov sat up on the couch looking Caleb in the eyes.

“Do I scare you, Caleb?” He asked and watched Caleb swallow.

“Sometimes.”

“Are you afraid right now?” he asked and Caleb nodded.

“Sometimes I can forget what you are. Then I ask too many questions,” he said and Solovyov smiled.

“You don’t need to fear me,” he said softly.

“No?” he asked and Solovyov answered him by gently placing his mouth on his. Caleb was stiff a moment, but when the Russian placed a hand on the back of his head and pushed their lips together with more force Caleb melted and fell against Solovyov. In a swift, fluid motion, Solovyov flipped them over so Caleb was beneath him on the couch.

He placed his mouth back on Caleb’s pushing his tongue against his forcefully. Caleb immediately opened his mouth, allowing Solovyov access. Caleb’s tongue shyly met his but it was obvious who was in control of the kiss. The Russian’s hand threaded through Caleb’s hair before tightening into a fist and pulling his head back. Caleb moaned when the Russian’s lips went to his throat. His hot breath glided over his skin and Caleb gripped his shoulders.

“Caleb?” Solovyov said against his throat. Caleb gasped something out that Solovyov took as a ‘yes’. “Will you stay with me tonight?”

Soft, gentle kisses trailed along his neck and Solovyov pulled his shirt collar down to reveal his collar bone. Caleb looked up at the ceiling and tried to find his words. This man made it nearly impossible to form words when he touched him like this. He had the word no formed on his lips. But when he looked down at Solovyov’s auburn hair covered head, even now perfectly and neatly combed Caleb felt his resolve crumble. The moment Caleb felt the Russian’s large hands wrap around his wrists and place them over his head Caleb let out a shaky breath and nodded.

“Yes. But no sex,” he said and Solovyov smirked bringing his lips back to Caleb’s.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

Solovyov continued to place hot kisses to Caleb’s mouth and he kept a tight hold on Caleb’s wrists. Caleb tried to pull his hands free halfheartedly and melted into the kisses. The older man’s groin pressed into Caleb and he groaned at the hard bulge rubbing into him. Solovyov took his free hand and grasped the back of Caleb’s neck firmly pushing his tongue deeper into the boy’s mouth. Caleb moaned and lifted his hips up toward the hard Russian body on top of him.

“The movie,” Caleb gasped between kisses.

“Fuck the movie,” Solovyov responded and took his hand away from Caleb’s wrists. Caleb’s hands immediately fell to Solovyov’s shoulders but were quickly removed again in the Russian’s quest to remove Caleb’s shirt. The shirt was thrown to the side and the Russian’s large but slender hands ran over his smooth body. “Oh, you’re delicious.” Solovyov said leaning down and wrapped his lips around a nipple, flicking his tongue over the tip. Caleb sucked in a deep breath and Solovyov moved to the next nipple.

“Solovyov,” he whispered and grabbed the Russian’s hair.

“Grigori.”

“Grigori.” Caleb whispered. He threaded his fingers through the neat auburn hair messing up the part drastically. Solovyov’s lips went back to Caleb’s and he nibbled on his lower lip.

“I need to make a call,” He said against Caleb’s mouth but his lips remained on Caleb’s. Their tongues were still dancing together as Solovyov reached into his pockets for his phone. With a frustrating groan for not finding it in his trousers he got off the couch and grabbed his jacket from the coffee table. Once he found the phone he tossed the jacket back on the coffee take and dialed quickly. As he raised the phone to his ear he placed his hand back on Caleb’s abdomen and looked down at him appraisingly.

“I finished. I drop it off tomorrow. Three o’clock. Yes, I can make those arrangements. Good,” he said and hung up the phone. “Now, where were we?” He moved back on top of Caleb, who in the span of the very short phone call was able to collect himself some.

Caleb wrapped his arms around Solovyov’s neck and pulled him closer. Solovyov smirked into the kiss and nipped at Caleb again. His hand wandered south and gripped Caleb’s jeans. The moment Caleb felt the Russian’s fingers plucking at his jeans he pulled back and slid out from under Solovyov and taking his seat on the couch.

“We should watch the end.” Caleb said his face bright red. He was breathing heavy and he looked confused but Solovyov said nothing, only nodding. He reached into his jacket pocket once again and pulled out his comb, running it through his mussed hair. He was angry with himself. Just that morning he had promised himself to take things slow with Caleb, gain his trust, and then take what he wanted. Now he had gone and spooked the boy. Oh, but his body was just to delectable to keep his hands off.

“Do you comb your hair in your sleep?” Caleb asked and Solovyov snapped out of his thoughts.

“That would be silly,” Solovyov told him and Caleb smiled looking back to the T.V. “I am thoroughly lost.”

“It’s a flashback to what happened to his family.” Caleb said and Solovyov frowned.

“I have not been watching,” Solovyov said and Caleb rolled his eyes. He bit his lip and glanced at Solovyov who pretended he didn’t notice. After a few moments he scooted closer to the Russian cautiously. He wrapped his arms around the Russian’s waist. He placed his head on his chest and listened to the steady heartbeat. Solovyov ran his fingertips over the boy’s bare back and tried to keep himself from trying to take things farther than Caleb felt comfortable going. He was sure Caleb would not be opposed to doing oral on him; so long as Caleb remained clothed there would be no issue. Solovyov, however, was sure the less sexual he was toward the boy the more Caleb would feel this was an emotional, mental relationship as opposed to just physical. “Your skin is soft.”

“Thank you,” Caleb mumbled and closed his eyes, breathing in Solovyov’s scent. “Why didn’t like your home? In Russia I mean.”

“It was dismal. We were hundred mile from nearest service town and we had month of spring before cold came back. And you don’t know what cold is until you have spent a winter in Siberia. Petersburg was something though. I enjoyed my time there very much.”

“Grigori?”

“Yes?”

“When I first started working for Slatkin I thought you were just some club manager who paid tribute to the mafia,” he said and Solovyov stayed silent. “That’s not true is it…”

“No,” Solovyov said. “I am in charge of Petrov’s drug sales and shipment. I oversee the cocaine that comes in from Colombia, the heroine from China and the Marijuana from Mexico. I actually flew to China a few years ago. Our shipments of poppy came primarily from Afghanistan. The flow line was threatened by the war and so we needed a more reliable source. I also oversee all of the meth labs and ecstasy manufactures in New York.”

“Oh,” Caleb said and Solovyov continued to stroke his back.“So you’re kinda a big deal.”

“Kinda.” Solovyov repeated and lowered his nose to Caleb’s hair.

“Am I in danger?” Caleb asked and looked up at Solovyov.

“I do not know,” he answered truthfully. “But I will keep you safe.”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” he said and kissed Caleb on the lips.

“So we will still see each other now that I’m not working?” Caleb asked and Solovyov pressed his fingertips more firmly into Caleb’s back.

“Yes,” he said and kissed Caleb again. He ran his tongue over the boy’s lips before pulling back. “There is a nice little restaurant in Queens that I think you might enjoy. Are you free this weekend?”

“Sure am.”

“Good. If Petrov does not need me or you for that matter, we will go.” Solovyov said. He was in foreign territory at this point. He had never dated anyone before. He just had sex. A lot of casual sex, most of which he couldn’t remember.

“That’d be fun,” Caleb said and pulled away from Solovyov. He positioned himself so that he was on his back, his legs stretched out over the Russian’s lap. He looked up at the Russian, admiring his strong handsome features and Solovyov looked up at the T.V screen that had gone blank.

“Have you ever had a boyfriend, Grigori?” Caleb asked and the Russian glanced at him before flipping the screen back to cable.

“No,” he said and put the local news on.

“Never?”

“I told you I don’t date,” as he spoke he placed his hand on Caleb’s leg and looked over at it. “I see no need too.”

“Why not?” Caleb asked resting his head on the arm of the couch, a small frown on his face.

“I don’t understand why gay men try to go about relationships as if they are straight. What is the purpose of dating and marriage but reproduction? We cannot reproduce. So why bother?”

“What about companionship or love?” Caleb asked and Solovyov tried to keep from snorting. “And why can’t a guy and another guy, or a girl and another girl, have the same relationship?”

“Because we are different. Two men or two women have a different dynamic than a man and a woman.”

“But we’re not mindless sex machines. We should have more respect for ourselves.”

“I disagree with you. You are being too sentimental. Even straight people have casual sex. As I have said, marriage is for reproduction and the raising of offspring. Nothing more.” Solovyov looked back to the T.V.

“Your parents had issues didn’t they?” Caleb said matter of factly. “Or maybe it’s just because you’re Russian. Russians are fucked up people man,” he said and Solovyov glared at him as he smiled. “You’re lucky you guys have such sexy accents.”

Caleb sat up and moved closer to Solovyov. He curled his legs up under him and looked at the Russian.

“When did you realize you were gay?”

“I always knew,” he said shortly.

“I think I did too, but I didn’t really realize it until I was around eleven. I got a crush on my best friend.” He said, his cheeks pink and Solovyov looked over at him with closed lip smile.

“My first sexual experience with a man was when I was fifteen years of age. He was twenty eight.”

“Ew.” Caleb said and Solovyov shrugged.

“When you live in a town of two thousand people you cannot afford to be picky.”

“My first kiss was with Dayton O’Daily. He was in my chemistry class in high school.” Caleb smiled and blushed. “He was a year ahead of me. One of those classic handsome types you know. Blonde hair, blue eyes. He was gorgeous. I didn’t even know he was gay, but I was out. We were in the locker room after school and he just came onto me.” Solovyov ignored him and looked up at the T.V his jaw clenching. “He was the first person I gave a blow job to.”

“I don’t need to know that.”

“You talk about sex,” Caleb pouted.

“The only person’s dick you should be thinking about is mine.”

“Why do you have so many knives?” Caleb asked out of the blue and Solovyov looked away from the T.V.

“I like them,” he said and Caleb nodded and bit his lower lip.

“Can I see them?”

Solovyov smiled and nodded. He rose from the couch and offered Caleb his hand. Caleb threw on his shirt before he ventured down the hall with the Russian. When they entered the room Solovyov walked over to the cases and ran a hand over them almost reverently.

“How are they organized?”

“By type,” Solovyov said and opened a case. “But this one is reserved for my favorites.”

Caleb stood next to Solovyov and looked in the case. There was a mixture between switchblades and fixed blades and all had sleek, smooth but deadly silver blades.

“It’s a tie between these two,” Solovyov said picked up two knives. “I’ve always been partial to switchblades, but I love this one.”

He held up a bladeless knife in front of Caleb and pressed a button. Caleb jumped back when the blade shot out from the top and Solovyov chuckled. He put that blade down and held up the other.

“I bet you remember this one,” Solovyov said with a smile and Caleb frowned.

“Is that-?”

He was cut off when the blade swung out and he remembered his last encounter with the very same blade.

“You know Caleb, I really was going to cut your eyes out.” He said and stepped toward him.

“I believe you.” Caleb stepped back until he felt the wall behind him. Solovyov stopped in front of him holding up the knife. “Grigori.” Caleb said with a breathy laugh. “Stop fooling around.” He said and one of the Russian’s hands shot out pushing Caleb against the wall. Caleb gasped when he felt the blade against his throat and looked up at Solovyov’s smiling face.

“Scared?”

“A little.”

“I’m turned on.” He said and grabbed Caleb’s hip with his free hand. He lowered his lips to Caleb’s in a commanding kiss pressing Caleb’s head back into the wall. Caleb felt his body tighten in fear and excitement as he submitted to the kiss. He felt the Russian’s tongue pressed at his lips, demanding entrance. Caleb parted his lips loving the feeling of the Russian standing over him, pressing into his and in a bizarre way that disturbed Caleb, the feel of the knife resting against the side of his neck and pressing up into his jaw was exciting. It sent a shock through his spine and his member was hardening noticeably as the man kissed him. His hands grabbed onto the Russians strong biceps but kept from moving too much. He was unsure how sharp the knife was and he didn’t want to slit his own throat.

“I want you Caleb.” Solovyov said against his lips. Caleb’s chest was heaving heavily. “And I know I won’t have you tonight, and I am willing to wait,” he said with more understanding than he felt. “But do you find it exciting?” He was nearly whispering.

“What?” Caleb asked brushing his lips over Solovyov’s. The Russian’s skin was hot beneath his hands and Caleb, although his eyes were closed, could almost see the black ink on his arms as he ran his hands over it.

“You’re alone Caleb. In a room full of knives with a member of the Russian mafia. A member of the Russian mafia who is thoroughly attracted to you and has a knife at your throat.”

His free hand moved to Caleb’s crotch.

“Feels exciting,” he said with a smile. Caleb was horrified to admit it but the danger was exciting, the control the Russian had over him was exciting. He nodded reluctantly and Solovyov pulled back the knife and lowered his mouth to the pink line that was left. He sucked roughly on the sensitive skin and Caleb bit his lip as the Russian’s teeth scraped against his throat. Caleb’s body tingled as the Russian nearly growled against his neck. He heard the knife clatter on the floor as the Russian inhaled against his skin. Solovyov raised his head, resting the side of his face against Caleb’s and calmed his breathing.

“I respect you for your morals Caleb. You are naïve but I respect you,” he said against the boy’s ear and gently kissed his jaw. At the small gentle gesture Caleb melted against the older man. He felt Solovyov wrap his arms around his smaller frame and Caleb felt a comforting sense of security wrapped in the Russian’s arms. He rested his head on Solovyov’s strong chest and relished the feeling of simply being held.

“I like you Grigori,” Caleb said nuzzling his face into Solovyov’s chest.

“I like you too,” The Russian said resting his chin on top of Caleb’s head a small, but satisfied smirk settling on his face.

 

_

“Let’s go upstairs,” Solovyov said. “No sex.”

He added and Caleb nodded. Their fingers intertwined as they walked up the staircase and halfway up Caleb was pulled into a kiss. His back was to the wall and he wrapped his arms around the older man’s neck. After a few more kisses Solovyov resumed their ascension up the stairs.

“You know, Caleb,” he said as he pushed Caleb into the room. He stood behind him, his chest pressed against the boys back. “You are the only one I have ever allowed to sleep in my bed.”

He placed a light kiss to the back of Caleb’s neck and the boy shivered.

“Really?” Caleb’s voice was soft and Solovyov wrapped his arms around him.

“Really.” He placed another kiss to the boy’s cheek and then his jaw.

“I guess that makes me special.” Caleb rested his arms on top of Solovyov’s and leaned back.

“It does,” he answered back arrogantly and placed his hands under Caleb’s shirt and onto his abdomen. “Your skin is so soft.”

He glided his lips over Caleb’s ear. Caleb’s eyes fluttered closed and he placed his head back on Solovyov’s shoulder, arching his neck back. Their lips met and Caleb moaned when he felt the Russian’s hands move lower.

“Do you fantasize about me?”

“Yes,” Caleb told him as he leaned against Solovyov. He bit the shell of ear gently.

“Do you whisper my name when you jerk yourself off?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me what name you say,” Solovyov said running a hand up Caleb’s chest. Caleb pressed himself even closer to Solovyov imagining himself in his dorm room.

“G-Scott!” He called out his eyes popping open.

“Who the hell is Scott?” Solovyov said spinning him around and Caleb patted his pockets.

“My roommate. I haven’t called him in two days, he must be freaking out.” Caleb said and grabbed his cell phone. Solovyov stood and watched him dial the phone in slight bewilderment.

“Scott it’s me.”

Solovyov, feeling the moment lost, went into his bathroom to brush his teeth. Caleb tried to calm down Scott who was furious he hadn’t been called in nearly two days.

“I called your mother, Caleb,” Scott said and Caleb froze for a moment.

“You what?”

“I was concerned. I didn’t know if she might have heard from you.”

“That’s a fucking lie and you know it!” Caleb snapped. “You called to get me back for not telling you I wouldn’t be home.”

“I was worried something happened. You’re hanging around with Russian mobsters Caleb. Your mother called the police.”

“You did not tell my mother I was going to a mob club,” Caleb said and he heard silence on the phone. “God dammit Scott!” Solovyov came out of the bathroom, a curious frown on his face.

“I’m sorry but I had too.”

“Are the police looking for me?”

Solovyov’s stopped still at that comment and watched Caleb harshly.

“They said it was too early for us to report you missing, but you are supposed to call them if we found you.”

“Fine. I will not be home tonight. Good bye,” he said and hung up as Scott tried to speak to him. “Fucking Christ.”

“What’s the number for the police?” Caleb asked but the Russian’s hand grabbed his wrist in a tight grip. Caleb cried out in pain and his hand opened, his phone dropping to the floor.

“Why would you call the police?” Solovyov asked and Caleb tried to pull his hand free, but Solovyov was too strong. Solovyov did loosen his grip some.

“My idiot roommate called my idiot mother who called the cops. I’m only going to tell them I’m safe,” Caleb said and Solovyov let him go. Caleb stumbled back a few feet holding his wrist.

“You may call the police…” Solovyov said stiffly and went to his dresser. After Caleb explained to the police that they could drop the report on him, and received some advice that he should remember to call his friends Caleb hung up the phone.

“I suppose I should call my mom,” Caleb said sitting down on the bed.

“If you wish.” Solovyov said and Caleb bit his lip.

“I’ll call her tomorrow,” he said placing the phone on his night stand.

“I am sure she is worried,” he said and stroked Caleb’s cheek with his thumb a moment. “I know I would be.” 

Caleb blushed and looked down.

“I’ll just tell her I’m ok,” he said and went to “home” in his contacts. His thumb hovered over the send button as he reconsidered the call. He glanced up at Solovyov who had moved back to the dresser and pressed his thumb down. With each ring of the phone he felt more and more sick.

“Hello?”

Tears pressed at the back of his eyes when he heard his father’s voice on the phone. He noted how sad his father sounded.

“Hi dad,” he said and heard silence on the other end for a few moments.

“Caleb?” His father asked and he smiled.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“I-…you are ok then?” He asked and Caleb tried to wet his dry mouth.

“Yeah I’m fine. Scott is just neurotic.” He tried to laugh, but no sound left his throat.

“I’m very glad you are ok, son. We were very worried.” His father’s voice was strained and Caleb wanted to drive home and hug him but he didn’t know what to say next. “Would you like to talk to your mother?”

“No.” Caleb said quickly. He wouldn’t talk to her if he didn’t have to. He hadn’t forgiven her yet. “Just tell her I’m ok.”

“Alright.” There was more silence.  
“Bye dad,” Caleb said softly.

“Good bye Son.” They both paused. Caleb would not bring himself to hand up the phone.

“Caleb,” His father said quickly.

“Yes?”

“You can come home now,” his father said and Caleb nodded.

“OK.”

“I love you.”

“Love you too, dad. Um…and mom.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

Caleb hung up the phone and placed it on the night stand. He clapped his hands together and looked over at Solovyov.

“That was such a warm and loving phone call,” The Russian said dryly.

“Shut up,” Caleb said and lay back on the bed. “We haven’t spoken in nearly a year.”

“You should not let such petty family problems get in between you and people you love,” Solovyov said. “Were my parents still alive I would be speaking to them.”

“They nearly destroyed my life,” Caleb argued, growing annoyed. Wasn’t he supposed to be on HIS side.

“You’ve managed.” Solovyov said.

“Yeah working for the mafia,” he snapped at Solovyov’s insensitivity. “You almost got me killed.”

He got off the bed and made for the door.

“I’m getting a cab and going back to my dorm,” Caleb snapped and Solovyov grabbed him by the upper arm and swung him back.

“Don’t be such a baby,” Solovyov sneered.

“Sorry, I’m not an old man like you,” Caleb said and tried to get by him. Solovyov grabbed his arms and shoved him back. Caleb stumbled backward and landed on the bed on his back. He looked up at Solovyov more angry than fearful.

“Don’t man-handle me,” he snapped trying to get up from the bed but Solovyov was on him in half a second. His strong hand grabbed his jaw, pushing his head back into the bed.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Solovyov said pointing at him. “And don’t use attitude with me.”

“What are you my father?”

“I’m your-“ He paused. “Your –”

The grip on Caleb’s jaw was hard but Caleb was able to be amused. “Well, I don’t know what I am. You don’t talk to me like that.”

“What are you going to do?” Caleb asked trying to pull his face away.

“Did I not show you my knives?” Caleb swallowed as Solovyov shifted his position. Caleb’s face turned bright red as he saw Solovyov’s face turn into a smile and his grip tightened slightly. “Are you hard?”

“No,” Caleb said and Solovyov chuckled.

“I think you are,” Solovyov said and cupped Caleb’s crotch. “God Caleb. I haven’t fucked in weeks.”

“Really?” Caleb asked genuinely surprised. “I thought that you…” he trailed off.

“Thought I had what?”

“I don’t know. Been with other guys about every other night.” Caleb said and lowered his eyes slightly.

“Of course I haven’t. I’ve been with you.” He said and stroked Caleb’s cheek. “Do you believe me?”

“Yeah. I think I do.” Caleb said and the Russian smiled at him.

“Good. Now. Let’s take care of this.” He said and slyly began to unbutton Caleb’s jeans.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

When Caleb woke up he was once again alone. He heard the shower running and the bathroom door was shut. Laying on his back he closed his eyes and decided to wait for the Russian to come out. Then he would have to go back to his dorm and do some actual work. He hadn’t been at the dorm for nearly two days now and he knew Scott was wigged out. However, he was not exactly in the mood to see Scott right now. He knew Scott did not have to call his parents, and he knew Scott would did not call them believing they had heard from Caleb. As far as Caleb was concerned it was a low blow.

When the water shut off there were a few moments of silence before he heard Solovyov speaking. Slowly the door opened the reveal the Russian, his hair wet and uncombed, wearing only his black trousers. He had his cell phone to his ear and a set frown on his face. Caleb only watched him blankly. He could sense Solovyov was not in the best of moods.

“Yes Sergei is in the city,” he said and went to his walking closet. Caleb looked inside from his spot on the bed as he spoke. “Petrov is going to meet with him today. Yes, he’s already spoken with Boticelli and they have agreed to stay neutral. He’s going to stay in the country. I am sure. No I need to secure the warehouses. Yes another shipment of guns came in and we need to make sure our men get them. Yes, I’ll be there soon. Good. Goodbye.”

He hung up the phone and sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“You need to go home,” Solovyov said and Caleb sat up. He watched Solovyov begin to dress himself, getting on last glance at his tattooed body.

“I know, I need to go back to the dorm anyway –”

“No, I mean home… to your parent’s house. It won’t be safe in the city in a few days. Besides, you’re on spring break in a few days aren’t you?” he asked as he put on his tie. Caleb frowned.

“Well, my finals are next week, but I can’t go back to my parents. I am rooming with Scott this summer. We have an apartment that we are moving into at the end of the month,” Caleb said sitting up.

“You can’t stay in the city. You’ll get killed,” Solovyov told him firmly.

“I’m not going to my parent’s,” Caleb replied just as firmly. “We already paid for the apartment.”

“You’ve never experienced a gang war Caleb. Trust me, they aren’t pretty and a lot of innocent people get hurt. Now, imagine those gangs, with the money and the resources at our disposal,” he placed a hand on his chest. “It’s going to be a warzone in a few weeks.”

“I have nowhere else to go. And I won’t leave Scott,” he said and Solovyov sneered but picked up his phone. He spoke rapidly in Russian for only a few seconds before he hung up. He was nodding as he lsitened, and seemed to be thankful to whoever it was he was speaking to when he hung up.

“You will both be going upstate. Petrov has a house up there. You’ll stay with Michael,” Solovyov said and continued to get dressed as if everything was finalized.

“Wait, woah woah woah. I can’t just get up and move to a mobster’s house. And Scott won’t even go to your clubs let alone move in with one,” Caleb argued and Solovyov remained unfazed.

“You go north. Whether your friend goes or not is not my concern,” Solovyov told him. “And I will pay for apartment while you are gone.”

“But I can’t –”

“Caleb!” Solovyov shouted and turned around so he could look directly at Caleb. Caleb immediately fell silent. “You will not stay in the city. Understand

Caleb nodded.

“Finish your finals. At the end of the week I am bringing you, with or without your friend, upstate,” he offered no room for argument and Caleb stayed silent. He bit his lip, trying to figure out how he would sell this to Scott.

_

“I don’t fucking believe this,” Scott mumbled as he watched the lines on the road go by.

“It’s not my fault,” Caleb snapped looking out the other window and Scott snorted.

“If you weren’t so obsessed with some Russian cock then this never would have happened,” Scott snapped as he continued to look out the window. He was still angry with Scott and Scott had not been very pleased when he arrived and told him they would be going up north in a week. He was slightly softened by Solovyov’s offer to pay for their apartment while they were out of the city, but he was furious none the less. They had had a loud fight when Caleb had returned from Solovyov and had not really spoken since. When Alexander was sent up to collect them he threatened to change his mind and not go. The moment Caleb answered the door however, and his eyes landed on Alexander, he was suddenly resolved to go. Caleb saw the look Scott had one his face as he looked Alexander over and shook his head. “He’s Mafia, Scott,” Caleb mumbled. It seemed to make Scott back off slightly, but there was a twinkle in his eye Caleb did not like.

“Oh yes it would have.” Caleb snapped back. “The war would have started anyway at least this way we will stay alive.”

“Yeah, and go to prison for murder,” Scott mumbled and pulled out his phone.

“Scott –”

“I know how this shit works alright. I watch Law and order. If I am with them and they commit murder I’m an accessory.”

“You didn’t have to come,” Caleb said crossing his arms.

“Yeah right and get myself blown up.”

“Will you two shut up?” Alexander said from the front seat and Solovyov had a soft smile on his face in the driver’s seat.

“No one’s talking to you asshole,” Scott snapped and Alexander turned around in his seat.

“Hey shut up,” Alexander said pointing his finger in Scott’s face. Scott slapped his hand away. Alexander tried to slap at the hand slapping at his and Caleb attempted to separate the two but ended up getting a swat in the end by both of them.

“All three of you stop that at once. My Goodness we are all adult men. You,” Solovyov said when Alexander turned back around. “What would your mother say if she saw you acting like that?”

Alexander crossed his own legs and glared daggers at Scott from the mirror.

“Why is he even here?” Alexander asked. “And why the hell am I here?”

Solovyov looked in his rearview mirror to change lanes. He was silent a moment before speaking. “Your mother –”

“oh no no no!” Alexander yelled. “I am NOT staying with these two assholes. I should be in the city.”

“Your mother won’t have it,” Solovyov said. Alexander looked outraged and Scott laughed in the back. Caleb looked between the two. Thank God Michael would be at the house. He didn’t know if he could survive playing referee all summer.

“Some big bad Russian you are,” Scott said and Alexander was about to yell back at him but Solovyov raised his hand and they all fell silent. Scott smirked and glanced at Caleb who only shook his head, a hard look in his eyes. He could read Scott’s mind. Scott, judging by his brief interaction with Alexander so far, did not think he was a real mobsters, and while he really wasn’t, Caleb had seen a darkness behind his eyes that frightened him. He knew Alexander was capable of unspeakable things, and he did not want his best friend to get himself killed or maimed.

“Five minutes of silence,” Solovyov said and all of them were quiet. Scott looked over at Caleb who shook his head again. Solovyov looked in the rearview mirror at Caleb and winked. Caleb smiled and looked out the window.

When they got to the house and jumped from the car Alexander and Scott tried to force their way through the door at the same time. Scott was eventually able to muscle himself in before Alexander, who was furious at the insult. No one saw his snarl, because Solovyov and Caleb were behind them, and Scott had his back to him. Solovyov walked behind Caleb who slung his bag over his shoulder.

“We’ll be safe here?” Caleb asked Solovyov who nodded.

“It won’t leave city,” Solovyov reassured him.

“My parents?”

“Petrov is good at keeping stuff like this contained. Your parents are safe,” he said and Caleb nodded. Solvoyov reached out and ran a hand through Caleb hair. He bent down to kiss him, and pressed their lips together gently and chastely. “It won’t be too long, only few months. Petrov has plan.”

“Just be careful,” Caleb said looking up at the house. He tried to sound as unconcerned as possible, but a small smile came to Solovyov’s lips. As intent as he was on trying to see unaffecting, it was clear Caleb was concerned for his safety.

“I will. Some men in Petrov’s inner circle might drop in from time to time other than that you will be alone,” Solovyov said.

“Alexander and Scott are going to kill each other,” Caleb said and they walked up the walkway to the door.

“Most likely,” Solovyov smiled but then turned more serious. “Alexander has temper. Try to convince Scott to leave him alone.”

Caleb nodded.

“Will I still see you at all?” Caleb asked and Solovyov thought a moment.

“If I have the time,” he said rather coolly and Caleb nodded. His eyes were on his feet and he tried to get the pain in his chest to go away. As they stepped into the house Michael was standing by the stairs, a confused look on his face. He looked at Caleb and Solovyov before looking back at Alexander and Scott. Alexander had Scott in a headlock and Scott was trying to get Alexander to free himself. Scott’s face was turning a sickly shade of blue and Caleb bounded across the room to try to get Alexander to let Scott go.

Scott’s arms were flailing, and Caleb yanked on Alexander’s arm from it was like a vice. The look on Alexander’s face was frighteningly neutral and it did not look like he was expending any energy what so ever.

“Alexander!” Solovyov yelled and Scott was immediately released. He fell to the floor and the color eventually returned to his face.

“He called me a Cossack!” Alexander shouted.

“I said you weren’t even a real Cossack I didn’t say you were one,” Scott breathed out, his hand rubbing his throat. Caleb was kneeling next to Scott and looked over to Solovyov.

“I need to leave,” Solovyov said and looked at Caleb and Michael. “Can you too keep them from killing each other please?”

“I make no promises.” Caleb said and Michael smiled. He looked thrilled they were there. It appeared he went from having no friends to having three live in friends.

“Mr. Petrov will be calling you tonight.” Solovyov said to Michael. “So please be by phone.”

“I will,” Michael nodded. Michael looked at Solovyov with a look that Caleb could not quite place. It was affectionate, almost reverent, but void of any romantic inclination. Solovyov saw the look, seemed to understand it, and looked back to Caleb without saying anything. Caleb bit his lip and stepped closer.

“I’ll call you in few days,” Solovyov said and Caleb nodded.

“Alright.”

Solovyov held Caleb in a quick hug before releasing him.

“Sasha, if you touch him again I will personally give you a hell of a beating,” Solovyov said and Alexander nodded. Scott smirked from the floor, feeling a new sense of authority now. With no threat of retribution, Scott could play with Alexander all summer long.

“I’ll call you,” Solovyov said to Caleb and kissed him one last time before stepping out of the door. 

Alexander stood with his arms crossed fuming in the center of the living room. Caleb sighed and looked over at Michael who smiled at him widely. Alexander glanced over at Scott who had a large smile on his face. He was looking at Alexander who was only more annoyed by the smile.

“What?” He snapped as Scott started laughing.

“Sasha?”

Caleb sighed. This was going to be a long summer.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

“You know Sasha’s a girl’s name?” Scott asked and Alexander scowled. He sat on the couch and flicked the T.V on, doing his very best to ignore Scott.

“It’s a good Russian name,” he replied shortly and Scott laughed at his anger.

“Right,” Scott mumbled and sat down on the coffee table directly in front of Alexander. “So are you gay too?”

He asked Michael. Michael, when he realized Scott had been speaking to him, nodded.

“Well, if Alexander’s game than I foresee an orgy in the near future…” Scott teased. Michael turned a deep shade of red and Caleb placed a hand on his shoulder shaking his head. Michael calmed down when he found out Scott was joking and turned back to the two feuding men.

“Move,” Alexander said to Scott, doing his best to ignore the last statement. If he were to give it any attention he would surely lose control and kill the annoying younger man. “I can’t see.”

“So? Look at me,” Scott said blankly and Alexander just glared back for a moment.

“I’m going to go claim my room,” Caleb said and began walking up the stairs. Michael followed him closely, hoping not only to get a better relationship with Caleb, who he looked up to immensely, but to get away from Alexander, who he really did not like.

“All the rooms on the left are free,” Michael said and Caleb took the first one he came too.

“Nice rooms,” he mused and Michael nodded.

“It shares a bathroom with the room next door,” Michael said. Caleb sat down on the bed and looked around. The room was plain, but warm and comfortable. It wouldn’t be too hard to live here the next few months.

“Where do you sleep?”

“Oh, me and Iosef sleep down the hall,” he said, pointing in said direction, and Caleb tossed his bag on the bed.

“We should go downstairs before those two slaughter each other.”

“Sounds good.”

“So what are you going to do with school?” Caleb asked. He knew that high schools were still in session but he couldn’t imagine Petrov letting Michael go back to the city.

“He told my school that I was having medical problems. Got his doctor to write out some reports. So I get school work weekly and one of Iosef’s guys drops it off,” Michael said and Caleb nodded.

“Sounds like a pretty sweet deal to me,” Caleb said as they got to the bottom of the stairs and Michael smiled.

“I’m not complaining. Only now I know I am going to fail my science classes. I barely understand it when the teachers teach it let alone when I read it from a book,” he said sheepishly. Caleb smiled. The question was obvious, but it was clear that Michael was too shy to come out and ask.

“I’ll help you, you know that.” Caleb said and Michael nodded with a smile. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked when he saw Scott and Alexander staring at the T.V screen blankly, no longer fighting.

“Looks like you got out of the city just in time.” Alexander said bitterly. “I should be there.”

“We all wish you were.” Scott said half-heartedly. “Come listen to this Caleb.”

Caleb went to sit down in between Scott and Alexander. Michael stood behind them, shaking his head frantically.

“No, No, we shouldn’t watch the news,” he looked flushed. “I’m not supposed too. Really, you guys we need to shut it off. It will only freak us out.”

“Be quiet,” Alexander said and turned the volume up.

“A devastating scene in Queens this afternoon. Four dead, up to thirty four injured and the numbers are only climbing. This is breaking news and we will get it to you as it comes in. Reports are coming in that several gunmen fired into a law firm suspected of working for the Russian Mafia. We have Edward Redding, former police captain, here with more. What can you tell us Edward?”

“Hello Marsha. I think it is safe to say that this was a mafia hit and I don’t think this is an isolated attack. I think this is only the beginning of what will be a long and drawn out mafia war.”

“What makes you think that this is the Mafia?”

“Well, there were shells left over from the attack, just covering the sidewalk. These were 9 by 39 caliber bullets and shells that were found on the scene. These types of bullets match the SR-3M Vikhr compact assault rifle, a favorite of the Russians.”

“Your prediction before we let you go. How big will this become?”

“I think this will last at minimum a few months. Casualties will be very high.”

“All right thank you very much. Gas prices are rising to an all time –”

Michael shut the T.V off looking thoroughly upset.

“We shouldn’t watch the news,” he said and Alexander crossed his arms.

“You look pretty upset you’re not allowed to kill anybody,” Scott said and Alexander scowled at him.

“You got video games?” Caleb asked and Michael nodded.

-

“Load them on the truck,” Solovyov said from the boatyard. He handed the boatman a suitcase of cash and the man yelled for his men to start loading the guns. “Separate trucks.”

“Petrov needs you at Beloi.” Adrik said coming from around a truck. “I’ll take things from here.”

“Alright,” Solovyov said and made his way to his car. He didn’t know what Petrov wanted, but it couldn’t be good if he was willing to remove Solovyov from overseeing the new weapon shipments.

_

 

“My lawyer is dead. Two of my accountants are dead,” Petrov said calmly. “Why?”

“I –”

“I’ll tell you why. Because you aren’t doing your job.”

“Sir, I –”

“Have the explosives come in?” He asked and Solovyov shifted in his seat.

“Yes, along with the assault rifles and the machine guns,” he said and Petrov nodded.

“Do you have a knife with you?”

“Of course., Solovyov said and Petrov raised his hand. The door to Petrov’s private room opened and a man, blindfolded and gagged was dragged in. Petrov stood and walked to the door before turning back.

“Find out where Slatkin’s safe house is,” he said and left the room.

_

Solovyov left the room using a cloth to wipe his hands clean.

“Well?” Petrov asked.

“He’s somewhere in Queens,” he told him and went to the sink to better wipe the blood from his hands and arms. “He bled to death before I got anything else.”

“Yakov make sure that our businesses in Queens are secure and move some extra men over there. Grigori have you spoken to Sergei?”

“Yes, he came in with the gun shipment. He has some new merchandise coming out of Czech Republic.”

He tightened the knot of his tie and straightened his shirt cuffs. Some blood had gotten on his short sleeves and frowned deeply as he thought about the stain it would leave.

“At a discounted price I hope,” he said and Solovyov nodded.

“Good. Come with me to Nikolai’s.”

()()()

“So, Sasha –”

“Sasha is a nickname. It’s for friends. You are not a friend,” Alexander said. He leaned back in his chair and, using his controller, pointed the gun at Scott’s character and pulled the trigger.

“What the fuck!” Scott called. “We are on the same team!”

“I forgot,” he said and Caleb dropped his remote on the table.

“We’ve been on level one for three hours,” Caleb said. “You two need to stop shooting each other.”

“Tell your friend to stop calling me Sasha.”

“Scott, stop calling him Sasha.” Caleb said and picked up his remote again.

“But it’s such a pretty name,” Scott said and reached out to touch Alexander’s brown hair. His hand was immediately smacked away.

“Don’t touch me,” Alexander said slowly and Scott reached out again.

“Aww, he’s cute when he’s angry.”

Alexander flushed with anger and hit his hand again.

“Stop it, I swear to God. Stop it,” Alexander said and Caleb dropped his controller onto the table again.

“That’s it I’m done. Mikey let’s go outside,” Caleb said and made his way to the back door. Michael got up and followed him, leaving Scott and Alexander alone.

“You need to stop,” Alexander said lowly. His eyes were dark and filled with anger that Scott only laughed at. He felt secure in Solovyov’s power over Alexander and thought he could do whatever he wished without facing any repercussions. “I mean it.”

“Stop? Stop what?” Scott asked innocently and moved closer to him.

“Stop doing that,” Alexander snapped.

“Doing what?”

“Stop it! You know what you’re doing,” Alexander said, his voice low. “You’re annoying the fuck out of me.”

Scott stood up and stood in front of Alexander.

“What are you going to do about it,” Scott asked crossing his arms. His blue eyes stared down at Alexander smugly.

“You don’t want to do that.”

“Do what?” Scott taunted.

“Don’t-that- don’t do that. You’ll be sorry,” Alexander said and unbuttoned the first button of his collared shirt.

“Oh yeah. A big bad guy like you really scares me,” Scott said. “You heard your uncle. You can’t touch me. For the rest of the summer, you’re my bitch –”

Before Scott could really finish his sentence Alexander pounced on him. His chest collided square with Scott’s hips, knocking him over and slamming him onto the ground. When Scott hit the ground the wind was knocked out of him and it took him a moment to realize what had happened. Alexander landed a forceful punch directly into Scott’s abdomen and whatever breath that had returned to him once again went rushing from his lungs.

Still struggling to regain his senses, Scott struck back, landing a rather weak punch at Alexander’s jaw line. Alexander laughed at the weak punch and Scott was given time to roll onto his stomach and tried to run away. Alexander grabbed the back of his shirt and kept him skill.

“Are you crazy? I was joking you freak.” Scott said when his escape failed and he ended up on his stomach with Alexander’s knee digging into his spine. He swung back an elbow, and because of Alexander’s awkward positioning managed to land a hard hit to his stomach. This gave Scott the opportunity to scramble onto his hands and knees but just as he was about to lift himself onto his feet Alexander threw his body on top of him to keep him still. His arm wrapped around Scott’s throat and Scott slowed his movement, now seriously worried about the older boy’s sanity.

“Don’t fuck with me anymore you understand,” he said with heaving breaths. “I’m not kidding. I’m just as bad as anyone in the brotherhood.”

“Yeah, yeah sure. I was kidding,” Scott couldn’t keep the annoyance from his voice.

“I’m going to be a big fucking deal one day and you’ll be sorry for fucking with me,” Alexander’s breath was hot against Scott’s face. He was about to open his mouth to ‘apologize’ for the things he had said but as he shifted he felt something hard against his backside and he frowned. He’d been in clubs. He’d had men grind against him before and he certainly knew what that was.

Alexander seemed to realize at the same time as Scott and they were both still for a few moments. When Scott turned to look at him Alexander stood up and began to mess with his pants. He turned his back to Scott in an attempt to hide his embarrassing erection. Scott got up to his feet too and looked at Alexander.

“You don’t tell anyone about this understand?” Alexander said as he turned around. Although his authority was there Scott could see embarrassment and fear in his eyes. “I’m not gay.”

“Felt gay,” Scott said. He wanted to touch his aching stomach, the punch Alexander had landed there earlier had probably left a bruise, but he thought against it.

“I’m not,” he snapped. Scott’s eyes ran downward and saw the noticeable bulge in his black suit pants. “Petrov and my uncle… they’re exceptions.”

There was a slight shake in Alexander’s voice as he spoke.

“You can’t run the mafia and be gay.”

Scott said nothing but just looked at Alexander. His jaw was set and eyes were hard. The hard expression on his face, to Scott, looked like it was about to crack, and under it Alexander was trying not to cry.

“Alright,” Scott looked at Alexander differently than he had before. Now he didn’t see an uptight, angry straight boy, but an uptight, angry, and confused prospect. One that certainly knew he had an attraction to men but fought against it. His brown hair, usually very neat and orderly, was ruffled and damp from sweat, his strong jaw line and high cheek bones gave him a hard appearance and his deep brown eyes were definitely quite beautiful.

They heard Michael and Caleb coming in from the kitchen and Alexander quickly walked way, as only a man with a hard on did, to the stairs, trying in vain to cover his erection.

“Don’t tell anyone about this Scott. It’s not what you think,” Alexander said with his back to the room as he mounted the stairs but waited for a response.

“I won’t,” Scott said, trying to fight his own arousal. Whatever Alexander had under his pants was huge.

“What happened?” Caleb asked exasperated when he saw Scott with a fat lip and covered in perspiration. “I swear if I have to baby sit you two the entire time we are here –”

 

“You won’t,” Alexander said as he began climbing the stairs. “We have come to an understanding to stay away from each other.”

It was directed at Caleb but Scott knew the message was for him. He looked at Caleb, who looked back at him for answers, and shrugged. Scott sat back down to watch a movie with the two other boys but he was not invested. He kept thinking back to what had just happened with Alexander. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to stay away from him all summer.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

When Alexander came downstairs Scott was lounged across the couch watching TV. Alexander moved to sit on the chair but no words passed between them. Occasionally Scott would glance over at him but Alexander ignored him.

“You know this doesn’t change anything,” Scott said and Alexander’s eyes shifted over to look his Scott, his head not moving once.

“What does that mean?” Alexander asked, his dark eyes locked on Scott’s.

“You fuck with me and I’ll tell the world, got it?” Scott said and Alexander’s entire face turned red with anger and embarrassment.

“You don’t know who your fucking with,” Alexander said softly. “You think you’re tough now, but just you wait. A time will come when my uncle won’t care about you, and when that time comes I’ll be there. I’m patient.”

“Yes, well,” Scott said. “Until then, you’re my bitch.”

“I’m no one’s bitch,” Alexander said and got up. A small smile came to Scott’s lips as he listened to Alexander’s footsteps slam up the stairs.  
_  
The moment Solovyov stepped out of the club he was immediately descended upon by photographers and journalists. He forced a smile and attempted to get to his waiting car without having to speak. It was soon clear that that would be impossible and he paused to take some questions. The photographers were vicious and by the time he got back into the car he was seeing stars. The questions were, of course, mob related, but Solovyov skillfully brushed aside the accusations and made a swift escape to his car.

His car was driving him down to the docks when a phone call came in from Petrov. After a meeting where Petrov was clearly less than pleased with him, Solovyov was not anxious to speak to him again. Still, he raised the phone to his ear and waited to be screamed at. Instead, Petrov was rather calm, and quite simply informed him that he wanted Solovyov to go down to meet personally with Peter, a man who had just recently defected to Petrov the moment the war broke out. He had proven to be very trust worthy and was key to keeping their casualties low. However, now he was a liability. He had proven his loyalty was fickle, and Petrov wanted him taken care of by someone he could trust.

He lived in a rather seedy section of town, and Solovyov was not pleased with having to go speak to him, but he accepted the task graciously. When he got out of the car he felt incredibly vulnerable, a feeling he did not like. His suit was too expensive, his wrist watch and ring too flashy. He was relieved when he ducked into the ally and out of site. Now two months into the way and the death toll rising, few people were out on the street, and so he was not worried about being IDed, but the feeling of being so exposed on all sides was not comforting in the least.

He walked around the building to the back entrance and waited a few moments, checking his watch. After a few more minutes he slipped inside the restaurant, slowly screwing the silencer onto his gun. The restaurant was empty, except for the cook, who readily accepted the five hundred dollars Solovyov slipped into his hand. He left the building, swearing never to breathe a word against the brotherhood. Solovyov nodded and moved for Peter’s office. He waited a moment, settled his nerves, and opened the door.  
Peter never had the chance to look up from the papers on his desk. Solovyov’s arm rose and the bullet left the barrel before the sound of the opening door even registered. His body flung backwards from the force, leaning back in his chair, a bloody hole in his skull. Calmly, Solovyov removed the silencer from his gun and placed it back in his suit pocket. His eyes canvassed the room and he took his time, reading over the papers on Peter’s desk. Sitting down, he accessed his computer, which was still opened and therefore not password protected.

Solovyov read quickly, anger and triumph settling in his gut. He found Slatkin’s personal cell phone number in his rolodex and smirked, grabbing onto his work phone and raising it to his ear. He waited as the phone wrung, and felt a rush of adrenaline as he heard a man answer. He could only assume it was Slatkin. He waited a moment as the man continued to ask what Peter wanted before he hung up the phone. Calmly he wiped the phone down with a cloth and forced Peter’s hand to grip the phone and pressed it to his ear before placing it back down on the receiver. He was sure Slatkin would be receiving a visit from the police, if they believed the last person Peter called before his death was the mob boss.

He left the building from the back entrance, walked back a few businesses over before coming out of an ally on the other end. He was just raising the phone to his ear when he heard his name called and he looked up. The gun went off the moment he heard Petrov’s voice on the other end and the phone fell from his hand as he stumbled back into the brick wall. Another shot rang out and Solovyov’s legs momentarily gave out and he fell to the car. He saw someone running off to his left before his eyes scanned the ground for his phone.

“Oh my God!” a woman cried from her open window. “He’s been shot!”

He found his phone and snatched it up, shoving it, still on, into his pocket. He stumbled toward his car, his white shirt becoming redder and redder every moment. When his driver saw him in the rearview mirror he hurried out of the car and toward his boss. Solovyov’s hair was now dam p with sweat and he was struggling to pull his car door open. The driver helped, trying his very best to keep himself in control. He was rather green, and this was the first time he had ever seen any action since his employment with the brotherhood began.

“Hurry up,” Solovyov panted as he got into the car. He slouched down so he could not be seen form the street and waited as his driver got into the car and turned on the ignition. “Get us out of here.”

“To the hospital sir?” he asked and Solovyov pressed his hands to his bloody abdomen.

“Are you crazy?” he breathed. “Get me to Nikita.”

“Yes, sir, Nikita,” the driver said.

“Slow down!” Solovyov yelled with the remaining strength he had. “Do you want the cops to pull us over?”

“Sorry sir,” he said and slowed down some.

Solovyov raised his hands up from the shot to his stomach, to view his bloody hands. Saying a small prayer to a God he did not believe existed, he rested his head on the car seat and closed his eyes.  
_  
Caleb sat at the table waiting for the phone to ring. He had been at the house now for two months and not one scrap of communication had come through from Solovyov. He had considered calling him himself but decided against it. He didn’t want to appear clingy or needy. Besides, Solovyov obviously had a lot on his hands. The news stories were becoming bleaker and bleaker and the death toll was now through the roof. Only four days ago the owner of his favorite restaurant had been gunned down in his office. He had gone to Peter’s all the time with his parents as a teenager and now it was part of a gang war.

Every time he heard Michael on the phone to Petrov he felt longing and jealously roots themselves in his gut. He knew Petrov and Michael were in a relationship, and Solovyov and he were not, but he wanted a phone call none the less. Each day that went by, Caleb felt the realization sink in that Solovyov really didn’t feel anything for him. It stung, but Caleb waited in vain, staring at the phone in the kitchen for nearly two hours now.

Alexander had gone out, Michael was doing some science problems Caleb had written out for him, and Scott was, as usual in front of the TV watching the news. Things were incredibly strange between Scott and Alexander. Scott was cocky around him, arrogant and rather off putting, but Alexander’s reaction was what was so strange. He remained calm, saying nothing, and took in Scott’s taunts and jokes passively. Everything Caleb knew about Alexander told him that was not how he would react, and it gave him a bad feeling. Scott was smart, he feared the mafia, but Caleb knew Scott did not think that Alexander was a real threat. As far as Caleb was concerned that was a potentially deadly mistake.

He didn’t pay attention when the front door opened and shut. Mobsters had been coming in and out for the past two months. Some of them were quite friendly and would sit down and talk to them for a few hours. Others either couldn’t or wouldn’t speak English and were stand offish and cold. He continued to stare at the phone and leaned his cheek in his hand with a deep sigh.

“Is it going to do a trick?”

Caleb jumped in surprise at the sound of the voice. He turned his head and his mouth hung open slightly. Leaning against the wall in a black Armani suit was Solovyov. Caleb tried to fight the smile that spread over his face as he stood, but his excitement was too great.

“I was waiting for a call,” Caleb replied and Solovyov raised his eyebrow and pushed off the wall. He took a few steps toward Caleb but stopped at the island. 

“From who?” he asked and Caleb smiled.

“No one important,” he teased and Solovyov smiled softly. There was something about him that was off. He had a relaxed smile on his face that Caleb had never seen. His tense and straight look was gone from his face and Caleb thought his eyes were slightly glazed over. He bit his lip as he took in the handsome Russian features and neatly combed hair. He quickly moved forward and wrapped his arms around Solovyov. He expected the Russian’s strong arms to wrap around him in return but instead Caleb felt himself being pushed away. A look of pain crossed the Russian’s handsome features. “What’s wrong?”

“I had an accident a few days ago.” He said and the light smile came back to his lips.

“What happened?”

The look of concern on Caleb’s face caused a more heartfelt smile to cross Solovyov’s lips. Caleb gently placed his hands on Solovyov chest as if searching for signs of injury.

“Please, do not over react. They were superficial,” Solovyov told him taking Caleb’s wrists into his hands. “Well, the one to my shoulder is.”

“What was?” Caleb asked with more annoyance. Solovyov sighed and looked over his shoulder.

“I was shot three times, but I only remember two shots.”

Caleb’s jaw hung open and he looked up at Solovyov.

“Are you ok!” Caleb asked, horror over his face.

“I told you I was.” Solovyov placed a hand on the side of Caleb’s face. He lowered his head and brought his mouth to Caleb’s. The feel of their lips touching was welcome to both of them but Caleb was too worked up to enjoy the kiss. Caleb pulled away and touched Solovyov urgently but gently.  
“Can I do anything for you?” He asked and Solovyov placed another kiss to his lips. The older man wrapped his arms around Caleb and pulled him closer. Caleb leaned his head on Solovyov’s chest gently. “Where were you shot?”

Solovyov’s hands were stroking the back of Caleb’s neck and he breathed in Caleb’s hair deeply. The affection in his touch was out of character but welcome and Caleb smiled.  
“Come upstairs with me and I’ll show you,” Solovyov told him with a smile. Caleb bit his lip and looked up at Solovyov. His deep brown eyes were smiling and Caleb felt the intense longing he had felt the past two months crush down on him. He leaned forward, placed his lips to Solovyov’s one more time. He felt his affection and longing overwhelm and work against his better judgment. He looked up at Solovyov again and licked his upper lip to calm his nerves. The Russian trailed a finger down his cheek. “Well?”

After a few moments Caleb took a deep breath and nodded.


	19. Chapter Nineteen

“I like this shirt,” Solovyov said as they climbed the stairs. Caleb looked back to see Solovyov a few steps behind leaning on the railing. Perspiration was visible on his forehead and Caleb noticed the pastiness of his complexion for the first time. The glazed look was still in his eyes as was the kind of lazy smile.

“Alexander hates it,” Caleb said in regard to his pink t-shirt. It molded nicely to his thin body and Solovyov looked him over with an appreciative smile. “The hospital let you out really fast.”

Caleb walked back down a few steps to where Solovyov had stopped and took his hand. 

“I didn’t go to a hospital Caleb,” Solovyov told him. “How would I explain this?”

He motioned to his torso.

“Just tell them you didn’t –”

Caleb was getting excited and Solovyov held up his hand to quiet him.

“I’m Russian Caleb. They don’t need all that much to put me in jail,” he said and stood independent of the wall. He placed an arm around Caleb shoulder and leaned into him. “Would you mind?” Caleb shook his head and began to help him up the stairs. “Where is Alexander?”

“He went to the movies.”

“Is your friend with him?” Solovyov asked. They got to the door of Caleb’s room and he helped the Russian over to the bed.

“No they have been avoiding each other lately,” Caleb shrugged. “I don’t think they like each other that much.”

Solovyov nodded.

“Alexander doesn’t like most people I have found,” Solovyov mused and removed his jacket with some difficulty.

“I was lucky. Man was horrible shot,” Solovyov laughed and slowly lowered himself to a seated position on the bed.

Caleb sat down next to him and watched Solovyov unbutton his shirt slowly. The use of his left hand was slow and Caleb helped him slide off the shirt. There was a bandage on his forearm and Caleb could see a two more under his undershirt. “Are you queasy?”

“No,” Caleb said and Solovyov pulled back a side of the bandage. The skin was cleaned but ripped open and raw. He could see inside into the flesh and Caleb winced.

“I don’t want to disgust you,” Solovyov said gently.

“I want to see,” Caleb pushed and Solovyov raised his arms over his head.

“Help with shirt,”

Caleb did as he was told and removed the shirt from Solovyov’s body. There was a thick white bandage on the top of his shoulder and another on his abdomen. Solovyov lifted up the bandage on his shoulder and revealed raw red skin.

“This is the most superficial. Skimmed right over top of skin. I’d rather not unbandage this one.” He said motioned to his abdomen. “This one was very deep.”

“How did you manage not to go to a hospital?” Caleb asked and gently ran a hand over Solovyov’s chest.

“Morphine,” He gave a pained smile as he placed the bandage back over his wounded shoulder. “We have a doctor who deals with any major injuries. That way we don’t have to answer any questions.”

He leaned back and lay on the bed. He rested his head against Caleb’s pillows. He kept his arms at his side, and shifted slightly, trying to find a comfortable position. Caleb sat down next to him and stroked his chest with his knuckles. Solovyov watched the boy bite his lip as he looked at the thick white bandages and he smiled.

“I missed you,” Solovyov whispered to him.

“I missed you too,” Caleb said with a blush. Caleb continued to gently touch Solovyov and the Russian took his hand in his.

“Caleb –”

“Caleb!” Michael came bounding into the room with a piece of paper in his hand and stopped short when he saw Solovyov on the bed, half naked. He could see the bandages and took a tentative step back, afraid he was going to be yelled at.

“Yeah, Mikey?” Caleb asked with slight annoyance.

“I don’t know what to do now,” His hair fell in front of his eyes and he looked down at the paper with a frown. “I’m lost.”

“Come over here,” Caleb motioned for him to come to the bed and he took the paper from his hand. “Do you have a pencil with you?”

Solovyov leaned his head back and looked between the two boys. His body was aching and it felt nice to be able to lie down and relax. Even after he had been shot he hadn’t been able to relax. He had been in a safe house in the city but so much was going on that it was impossible to sleep. And when he tried to lay back and relax the younger men ran to him for questions. Finally, after Petrov stopped by to check on him and saw the horrific shape Solovyov was in he told him to go up and spend some time with his ‘boy’.

“I want Michael checked on anyway,” Petrov had added as he left. “I don’t trust that nephew of yours.”

It had been nice to see Caleb again. His grey eyes twinkled and his hair was ruffled nicely as he looked over the sheet of paper that Michael had handed him. He was curious as to what the paper was and if he were at his full strength he would have leaned forward and plucked it from Caleb’s fingers. At the current moment he didn’t think that he would be able to sit up on his own. The muscles in his abdomen were in shreds.

“So this is the function,” Caleb said pointing at paper. Michael went over and looked over Caleb’s shoulder. Solovyov crinkled his nose as he looked at the boy. Petrov was an immensely rich man and so why was Michael wearing an old t-shirt with holes in it?

“Yeah,” Michael said and nodded.

“So, F of X equals H times X plus G times X. Right? So that means that F times X plus H equals H times X plus H plus G times X plus H. Following? So the limit is H goes to zero.” Caleb said and looked up at Michael.

“Then what’s the K?”

“The K is the constant that doesn’t change. In this problem it’s three,” He pointed to the number. “See.”

“Yeah…sure.” Michael said and took the paper back. He stared at it for a few moments before Solovyov cleared his throat. Michael jumped and looked up at him. His expression was questioning for a few moments until suddenly it hit him like a ton of bricks. “Oh! You two were gonna…Oh ok. I’ll go now. Sorry.” His face was bright pink as he left the room and Caleb frowned.

“You embarrassed him,” Caleb scolded the wounded Russian.

“I’m only here a short amount of time. I don’t want to share my time with you.”

Caleb smiled and looked at Solovyov’s chest. He placed his finger on the crucifix that was tattooed across the skin. Solovyov reached up with his good arm and gripped the front of Caleb’s shirt. He pulled on him gently and Caleb leaned closer for a kiss. He was careful to avoid putting any pressure on the wounded body as he pressed his lips to Solovyov’s. The kiss was lazy and slow and Caleb felt odd at Solovyov’s lack of control in it. He just layed their, hardly able to move, allowing Caleb to control the kiss. Solovyov gently sucked Caleb’s lower lip between his own before breaking the kiss off.

“Oh, Caleb,” he breathed softly. He placed his hand on Caleb’s cheek. “I’m so fucking high right now.”

He laughed, winced as it turned into a belly laugh, and then began to laugh again.

“What are you on?” Caleb asked and Solovyov shrugged but didn’t answer.

Caleb moved onto the bed so he lay beside the Russian and he brought his lips to Solovyov’s again. Caleb pressed his lips as firmly as he could to the Russian without hurting him. He felt like he needed to be as close to Solovyov as he could be. His injuries made that impossible though. It was disconcerting seeing Solovyov like this. He was pale and his skin clammy, his eyes disconnected. Caleb would actually prefer Solovyov’s normal harsh or blank expression over the smile on his face now. That smile meant he wasn’t himself, and it was upsetting. . He lay against the bed weakly, kissing Caleb back, but not with the force that was usually behind his kisses. The only thing that gave Caleb some comfort was the order in which his auburn hair was in. Caleb was certain his hair would be combed if he were in a coma.

Caleb placed a kiss to Solovyov’s jaw and rested his forehead against his shoulder.

“I don’t like it when you’re hurt,” he said and Solovyov placed a hand on the back of Caleb’s head.

“I don’t either,” he replied and Caleb laughed.

“How is everything going? With the war?”

“That’s yet to be seen,” he replied and Caleb nodded. He looked up at Solovyov and the Russian tapped a finger to his lips. Caleb leaned up and pressed his lips against his again. This time the kisses turned deeper and Solovyov held onto Caleb’s head. His tongue slid along Caleb’s lower lip and the boy parted his lips. “I’ve missed you.” He whispered against the boy’s lips and Caleb kissed him again. Solovyov pushed on the back of his head gently and Caleb moved down slowly looking up at the Russian.

Caleb unbuttoned Solovyov’s pants and rubbed his palm against the half erect cock in his pants. If Solovyov were anyone but Solovyov Caleb might have classified what left Solovyov’s mouth as a giggle. Solovyov ran a hand through his hair.

“If only it were safe. I’d keep you with me all the time,” Solovyov said and it sent warmth through Caleb’s chest.

Caleb smiled proudly and he slipped his hands into Solovyov’s pants. His fingers wrapped around the hardening erection and he placed a kiss to Solovyov’s hip. “In your mouth.”

Caleb looked up at him as he wrapped his lips around the head. He sucked his lips around the tip and pulled back.

“I missed this,” Caleb said indicating the erection and licked the hot shaft. Solovyov fisted the back of his hair and brought the boy’s mouth back to his cock.

“Show me, don’t tell me,” he said. “While I’m here I think I am going to put a new rule in place. The only thing you’re allowed to use that pretty little mouth for is sucking my cock.”

Caleb’s lips moved down the length of Solovyov’s cock and twisted his head back up. A moan left Solovyov’s mouth and Caleb quickened his pace. Solovyov watched the blonde head moving up and down on his cock and his breathing increased. He had never gone so long between blowjobs before. He usually always had someone but the past few months had been so busy and every time he had the opportunity to spend some time with a cute boy he couldn’t compare with Caleb. He wanted Caleb’s lips around his cock and Caleb’s young tight body underneath him.

The feeling of the blonde’s cute pink lips wrapped around his hot skin was heavenly. He wished he could stay in his warm wet mouth all day. He didn’t let Caleb pull his mouth away when the boy wanted to lick the base, but kept pumping in and out of his mouth. Every time his tongue flicked against the bottom of his shaft Solovyov would let out a breathy moan and his fist would tug on Caleb’s hair. Caleb winced when his hair was pulled but he went with the force and allowed Solovyov to direct the speed.

Solovyov looked down and watched Caleb. He moved Caleb’s head up and down faster as he felt himself coming closer and closer to completion. He bit his lower lip hard to keep from crying out. He didn’t know where Caleb’s friend was and Michael was just down the hall.

“Swallow it,” he managed to bite out. His voice was low and hoarse and the dark almost animal like nature of it sent a shock through Caleb’s own cock.

Caleb obeyed and swallowed all of Solovyov’s cum. Not that he had much of a choice; Solovyov kept his cock in Caleb’s mouth until he was done. Caleb took the softening member out of his mouth and licked at the head, dragging his tongue across the pink tip. When he looked back up at the Russian he was given a tired smile. Caleb kissed the now limp cock one last time before tucking back inside Solovyov’s pants and crawled back up.

Solovyov raised an arm slowly, trying to hide his wince, and Caleb snuggled into him. The boys flushed face pressed against the Russian’s chest and he inhaled deeply. The smell of musky cologne and masculinity wafted into his nose and he smiled. He had missed his smell and the feeling of being close to him. Solovyov’s arm was wrapped around him and the Russian’s knuckles stroked his thin arm. When Caleb looked up Solovyov had a soft smile on his face and his eyes were closed.

The Russian’s pale face looked tired and a soft sheen of sweat coated his forehead. Caleb was certain that the sweat did not come from their previous activity and he wiped Solovyov’s forehead dry with some tissues on the night stand. The Russian’s brown eyes opened and he looked at Caleb. His eyes conveyed what his face and body language did not.

“Are you in pain?” Caleb asked and Solovyov looked at him a moment, as if deciding whether he would tell the truth or not. Finally he nodded and Caleb placed a hand on his abdomen. “Can I get you anything?”

“No, just stay with me,” he brought Caleb’s head back to his chest and let out a deep breath. Thin, gentle fingers stroked the side of his face and the warm body pressed against his body lulled Solovyov closer to sleep. He had been shot once before in not nearly as dangerous a spot and the pain had been worse. The only thing Solovyov could contribute the strange lessening of pain would be the body lying next to him. He felt lips press down against the bottom of his jaw. “I would like a glass of vodka tonight.”

“There’s none in the house,” Caleb told him.

“Once I am asleep, go out and get some,” he said softly. He ran a hand through Caleb’s hair affectionately.

“Ok,” Caleb said and settled back down, placing his head back on Solovyov’s chest.

“Not until I fall asleep,” Solovyov repeated.

“Ok,” Caleb said again and listened to Solovyov’s chest rise and fall as he slowly fell to sleep.

_  
Caleb waited an hour after Solovyov fell asleep before he slid off the bed and left the room. He quietly shut the door behind him in an attempt to not wake Solovyov up but something told him that he wouldn’t wake up if a train came screaming through the room. When he got into the hall Michael popped his head out of his room and looked at Caleb.

“He’s sleeping,” Caleb said softly and Michael nodded.

 

“I think I got it,” Michael said and Caleb walked over to his room. Michael handed him the paper and Caleb looked it over. He always felt odd when he went into Michael’s room. It was like a strange mixture between a cold Mafia man and a teenage boy. There were CD’s, DVD’s and magazines spread about and a gun resting on the night stand.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Caleb told him and handed back the paper.

“Really?” Michael asked with a big smile and Caleb nodded.

“Yeah, look I need to go out to the store do you need anything?” He asked and Michael shook his head silently and sat back down at his desk. Caleb left and walked down the stairs into the living room. When he got to the bottom stair he saw Alexander, still in his jacket, and Scott standing in the middle of the living room. They had both been whispering harshly to each other but the moment they saw Caleb both fell silent and backed away from each other. “Everything ok?”

“Everything’s fine,” Alexander said sitting down on the couch and flipping on the TV.

“Yeah, Sasha and I were just talking,” Scott replied smugly, a smile on his face now. Alexander shot him a look that would have shut Caleb up, but Scott was unfazed. “Weren’t we?”

Alexander stayed silent.

“Right. Well, I am going to the store do you guys need anything?”

“Condoms,” Scott said and looked at Alexander who jumped from the couch and made for the stairs. He shoved past Caleb knocking him to the side.

“Seriously?” Caleb asked. Alexander was stomping up the stairs and Caleb was worried that he would wake up Solovyov.

“Yeah,” Scott said loudly and a door slammed shut up stairs.

“I don’t want to know,” Caleb said and put his coat on. He grabbed the keys from the key rack and left the house. It was hot outside and the sun was blazing down at him without mercy. He did not know how Alexander had managed to go outside with a jacket on. He slid into the car that Mr. Petrov had been kind enough to supply them with. It was a nice Audi sedan that had been dropped off a few days after they had arrived. Any four of them could use the car but usually it was only Alexander and Caleb. The other two couldn’t drive a stick. Scott was being unusually crude lately too, which was only brought out by the car.

“Why don’t you teach me how to ride a stick,” Scott had asked Alexander when they first checked out the car.

“It’s drive a stick. Drive, not ride,” Alexander had snapped.

“I know what I said,” Scott replied and Alexander’s jaw clenched.

“Can you ride a stick?” He asked.

“I can drive one yes,” Alexander replied and looked into the windows. The car was spacious and had a clean black interior.

“I bet you can,”

Caleb and Michael watched the exchange with confused frowns but neither said anything. They merely looked at each other and shrugged.

Caleb shook his head as he opened the car door and slid inside. Those two had been acting weird. Alexander had been even more sour than usual and Scott more goading. Caleb was beginning to worry that Alexander was going to snap and just beat the shit out of Scott. Caleb himself felt like it sometimes and he had some self-control. Alexander was too much of a hot head to keep his temper in check for long. He had mentioned this to Scott but he only laughed and shrugged.

When he got to the liquor store he went straight for the Vodka. He had never bought vodka before and rarely drank so he did not know what would be best for his Russian back at the house. He stared at the vodka for a long time before finally someone walked over and asked if he needed help.

“Um yeah, I’ve never bought vodka before I don’t really know what to get,” He said and the man looked at the shelf.

“Are you looking for price or quality?” the man asked and Caleb instinctively put a hand to his back pocket where his wallet was resting.

“Quality,” he answered. He still had a lot of the money Solovyov had paid him.

“Well, I would recommend Belvedere, Grey Goose, or Chopin.”

“Are any of them Russian?” Caleb asked and the man shook his head.

“No. Polish, French and Polish respectively,” He said and Caleb winced. Considering Slatkin’s nationality Caleb didn’t think showing up with Polish vodka would suit the Russian very well.

“I think we should stay away from the Polish vodka,” Caleb said and the man frowned but nodded.

“Well, if you are looking for Russian I would suggest, Stoli Elit or Zyr.” The man replied. “If you don’t want the Polish vodka may I replace my earlier recommendation to Reyka, an Icelandic vodka and Xellent from Switzerland?” Caleb frowned.

“Um, I’ll take the two Russian ones and the Reyka.” He said. The man nodded and bagged them up for him.

“Can I see your ID?” He asked and Caleb handed him his silence. “You don’t look twenty one.” He laughed.

“Yeah I know,” Caleb said back forcing a smile. He took the bag and placed it into his car. He stopped by the supermarket to get a six pack. He didn’t want to be drinking vodka all night but having something to drink wouldn’t be all that bad. When he got back to the house Scott was banging on the front door and screaming. Caleb through the car into neutral and pulled on the parking brake. He jumped out of the car, leaving it open, and ran to Scott.

“Scott, Scott, stop it,” Caleb said and grabbed onto his arm. Scott stopped and looked at Caleb, his face flushed. “What happened?”

“What happened? That fucking asshole manhandled me out of the house and locked all the doors,” Scott said. “Bastard won’t let me back in.”

“Maybe you could stop being such a creep to him,” Caleb said. “help me with the bags.”

Scott walked back to the car with him and grabbed the paper bag holding the vodka. Caleb got the beer and the two walked back.

“I’m not being a creep,” Scott mumbled and Caleb knocked on the door.

“Alexander it’s me, please let me in.” He called and waited. Finally the door opened and Alexander stood there.

“You can come in. He can’t,” Alexander said and Caleb could see a confused looking Michael sitting on the couch.

“Alexander. Please,” Caleb said again and finally he moved to the side letting in the two boys.

“Get my condoms?” Scott asked and Alexander turned and left. Scott laughed and helped bring in the bags to the kitchen. “Why did you get so much vodka?”

“Solovyov is upstairs,” Caleb said.

“He’s here?” Scott asked and Caleb nodded.

“I’ll be amazed if you didn’t wake him up.”

Caleb went up the stairs and opened the door to his bedroom. He peaked inside to see Solovyov still sleeping. Knowing that he had not been disturbed Caleb walked downed down stairs and grabbed the two suit cases that were sitting by the door. They were black leather with gold locks. Engraved into the locks were the letters G.S and Caleb decided to bring them up to his bedroom. He placed one on the dresser and the other next to it. He didn’t know how Solovyov would feel about him going through his suit cases but he wanted to get something more comfortable for him out. When he opened the case he found a plain white long sleeve shirt and pulled it out. He didn’t search any further. He didn’t want to get into any trouble and he highly doubted that Solovyov would bring sweat pants.

He laid the shirt out on the bed before crawling back up with Solovyov. The man shifted slightly, a look of pain on his face but stayed asleep. An uncomfortable nagging feeling settled in his stomach as he looked at the pained expression. Sweat coated his forehead and his skin was even pastier than before. Caleb got up from the bed to get a cloth from the dresser and wet it with cool water. When he returned to the bed he gently dabbed his forehead.

The Russians lips parted and a deep breath escaped. Caleb was filled with worry and he bit his lip. He had never been around a person with a bullet wound before; he didn’t know what they were supposed to look like. Solovyov looked bad though. His skin was not especially hot but horrible thoughts of fever and infection filled Caleb. He should have gone to a hospital. That person who treated him probably wasn’t even a real doctor. He could have sent Solovyov away when he needed help!

As he slowly worked himself into a panic he dabbed Solovyov’s forehead one more time before getting off the bed in search for Alexander. He found him in his bedroom laying on the bed and staring at the ceiling. He looked up Caleb as he entered the room with a nasty expression on his face.

“Have you been around someone who’s been shot?” He blurted out and the nasty expression was replaced with a surprised one.

“What?”

“Your uncle’s a mafia man. Have you ever seen someone shot?”

“Yeah, Vasily was shot last summer, he spent some time at Uncle Grisha’s house.” Alexander sat up.

“What did he look like?”

“Like a guy that got shot-what is this about?”

“Your uncles here,” Caleb told him and Alexander slid off the bed.

“Where is he?” He was already on his way out the door.

“He’s in my room, stop he’s sleeping.” Caleb grabbed him before he could barge into his bedroom. “I just don’t know what he’s supposed to look like. He’s pale and pasty and-“

“He was shot?” Alexander snapped. “Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?”

“I didn’t want to worry you. And he was asleep. I wanted him to rest.” Caleb explained. Alexander looked at the bedroom door as if he could see through it.

“How recent was it?” Alexander asked.

“I think a few days.”

“Well he’s not going to look good. Gunshot wounds take a long time to recover from. When did he fall asleep?”

“Like an hour ago,” he told him.

“He’ll be out for hours. You can’t imagine the drugs he must be on,” Alexander said. “Let me check on him and then we should leave him.”

They went into the room and Alexander looked at him. He gingerly touched his cheek before pulling back. “He’s fine.” He replied. “let’s go.”

“I want to stay with him,” Caleb said. “until he wakes up.”

“It’ll be a while,” Alexander told him.

“I know.”

“I’ll be in my room,” Alexander said and left the room. Caleb once again climbed onto the bed and lay down next to Solovyov. He lowered his head and placed a soft kiss to his   
lips before resting his head on the pillow. It took him a while but eventually he faded off into sleep.

He woke around four to the sound of a bag being unzipped and he looked to where Solovyov lay, or did lay. When he found the bed empty he looked over to see Solovyov in the white shirt that had been laid out by Caleb. He was searching through his suit case and seemed to be sweaty badly.

“Stop it,” Caleb said and jumped off the bed. He took the bag from Solovyov and grabbed the Russian’s arm gently. “Get back in bed.”

“I need my pills,” Solovyov said without really resisting. Caleb got him back on the bed before going back to the bag. He searched until he found a plastic bag filled with prescription bottles.

“What the hell did you do rob a pharmacy?” Caleb asked.

“I told you we have a doctor.” Solovyov said. “He gives us what we need.”

“Is he a real doctor? A qualified one?” Caleb asked and despite the shape he was in Solovyov raised an eyebrow.

“He went to Harvard and John Hopkins,” Solovyov said. “He’s more than qualified.”

Caleb nodded but didn’t seem convinced.

“What do you need?”

“Oxycontin,” He said. “And there are fentanyl patches in there.” Caleb reached in and took out the medicine.

“Isn’t fentanyl really strong? Should you be taking both?” Caleb asked and Solovyov nodded.

“I know what to take, Caleb. It’s only to help me sleep,” he said. “I’ll be more cognizant in the morning.”

Caleb handed him the pill bottle and one of the patches. Solovyov swallowed one pill and placed the patch on his upper arm.

“Where’s my vodka?”

“I’m not getting you any,” Caleb said stubbornly. Solovyov blinked at him.

“I want my vodka Caleb.”

“You shouldn’t be mixing alcohol with the meds you are on. It’s dangerous. Maybe tomorrow when this stuff wares off a little,” Caleb said and Solovyov didn’t get the chance to argue. His eyes grew heavy and he smiled. Caleb picked up Solovyov’s legs gently and lifted them up working to pull the covers down without hurting him. Solovyov helped a little, but he was mostly dead wait. He managed to pull the blankets up over his body and settle him in bed. Solovyov shifted his head for a more comfortable position on the pillow. He sighed deeply and faded back to sleep.

Caleb got up and walked downstairs. Only Alexander was in the living room and he muted the T.V when he saw Caleb.

“How is he?”

“He woke up and took some pain killers, then fell asleep again,” Caleb said sitting down on a chair. “He was fine earlier today, how can he be standing on all that medication?”

Alexander leaned back on the couch.

“He probably didn’t take so much when he got here, just enough to get him through the pain. They usually take a lot at night to sleep.”

“I don’t like it. He wanted to wash it down with vodka too,” Caleb told him and Alexander nodded.

“Yeah… don’t let him do that,” he said.

“I won’t,” Caleb said. “He’ll be ok right?”

“He’ll be fine,” Alexander reassured him. “Don’t get too worked up. He’s a big boy.”

Caleb nodded and leaned back against the chair. He looked up at the TV and sighed. He waited only ten minutes before he sat back up. He returned to his bedroom to check on Solovyov. He leaned in close to check his breathing. When he was satisfied he placed a kiss to the Russian’s forehead. The skin was cool but damp. Caleb closed the blinds to darken the room and crawled up next to him. He would have to get used to crawling onto and off the bed before Solovyov left. He scooted closer to the Russian, not quite touching him but close enough to sense him there. He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, waiting for Solovyov to wake up in case he was needed.


	20. Chapter Twenty

Caleb woke in the middle of the night and leaned in close to Solovyov. His breathing was deep and slow. Caleb felt a knot in his stomach the more he thought about the medication he had taken before going to sleep. He got himself so worked up that had trouble going back to sleep and he settled close to Solovyov in a position that made it easy to listen to his breathing. He stared up at the ceiling as he lay next to the Russian.

The next thing he knew was that he was opening his eyes and sun was shining in his face. He squinted and rolled over to the face the Russian. His face was blank and his eyes were closed. He looked peaceful but Caleb still felt slightly queasy at the memory of Solovyov taking and applying the medication. He leaned over the Russian, careful not to hurt him, and peeled the fentanyl patch away from his upper arm. He made sure that his fingers didn’t touch the adhesive area and he scampered into the bathroom. He wrapped the patch in toilet paper and threw it into the toilet.

He went back to the bed side and checked the clock anxiously. He was shocked to see it was already twelve thirty and he gently shook Solovyov’s shoulder. He shook him again but Solovyov did not react at all. Caleb felt panic grip him and he shook the Russian harder.

“Grigori,” he hissed and his voice began to climb. “Wake up. Grigori.”

Caleb did not see Alexander walking into the room and jumped when he felt hands on his arm pulling him away. 

“Jesus Christ Caleb, leave him alone,” Alexander growled quietly.

“He took too much medicine,” Caleb argued pointing at Solovyov as he was dragged out of the room. “He won’t wake up.”

“Stop for a sec, alright,” he told Caleb as Caleb tried to get back into the room. “Will you let me show you something?”

Caleb thought for a moment as he caught his breath and nodded.

“Fine, but fast,” he followed Alexander into his bedroom and Alexander sat down at his computer. He flipped his computer screen up and motioned for Caleb to come closer.  
“This is one of the most trusted pharmaceutical distributors on the country ok?” Caleb nodded. “’There are few interactions between fentanyl and Percocet. Percocet is often used with fentanyl to control breakout pain. Fentanyl normally last up to seventy two hours and Percocet should be used as prescribed. Always consult a doctor before using either medication.’ Feel better now? These combinations are used for gunshot wounds more than you’d think.” Alexander said looking at the screen. He winced before continuing. “But yeah, don’t give him any vodka.”

“He should still have a doctor,” Caleb said. He still did not feel incredibly secure in the situation.

“He does have a doctor Caleb. In the City,” Alexander assured him.

Caleb said nothing and went back into his room, Alexander following close behind. When they entered Solovyov’s eyes were open and he was frowning, staring up the ceilding. He looked over at the two young men as they entered the room, pain in his eyes.

“Was someone just shaking me?” He asked as the two young men entered. Caleb felt his face turn red and he looked at Alexander. “It hurt.”

“Caleb got a bit excited,” Alexander answered and leaned against the door frame. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine, but my patch is gone.”

“I uh-I took it off.” Caleb bit his lip.

“Why?” Solovyov asked in both annoyance and confusion and Caleb shrugged.

“I thought you had taken too much. I was afraid,” Caleb said and was surprised to see the Russian smile as he closed his eyes again and nodded.

“In a few hours I will need to apply another one then.”

Caleb sat down on the bed and picked up Solovyov’s hand. Solovyov squeezed his hand in return and opened his eyes.

“I am wanting Blini right now. With strawberry jam,” he said and looked at Alexander. Without a word the Russian’s nephew rolled his eyes and left for the kitchen. Solovyov motioned to his bag silently and Caleb got up to retrieve it for him. “Put it in the bathroom.”

When Caleb came back from the bathroom Solovyov was sitting up in bed. He was rubbing his shoulder and a look of pain covered his face. “Caleb, do not shake someone who has been shot, alright?”

“Sorry,” Caleb said sheepishly and walked over to him. He shyly ran his fingers through the Russian’s hair and smiled. When the Russian looked back with a soft expression he felt bolder and ruffled the auburn hair. “You look good with your hair messed up.”

“Hmm,” Solovyov said and Caleb could see him fighting the urge to put it back in place. “Why don’t you go help Sasha. I wish to shower.”

Solovyov pushed himself up off of the bed and Caleb stepped back to give him room.

“Alright. Do you want me to bring it up to you?” Caleb asked and Solovyov shook his head.

“No I want to go downstairs,” Solovyov said as he made his way over to the bathroom. He moved slowly and stiffly but he did not look as if he was in too much pain. Caleb waited in the hall for a few moments but did not go downstairs. He was worried Solovyov would fall or hurt himself and he went back into the bathroom. The door was open and Solovyov’s shirt was off. The Russian was concentrating hard as he applied a plastic cover to the new bandages he had applied to his broken skin. Without noticing that Caleb was there he went to turn the shower on. In the process of turning he pulled at his abdomen and his breath hitched with pain. Caleb darted forward to turn the shower on.  
“Here, let me do it,” Caleb said and twisted the shower on. He went to help Solovyov but was shocked when he went stumbling backward into the wall. Not only was the force in which Solovyov had shoved him shockingly strong considering his condition, the fact that he had shoved him at all was surprising.

“What was that for?” Caleb asked, slightly hurt.

“I am not a child. I can bathe myself.” Solovyov sounded angry and Caleb felt his face burn with embarrassment. “Now go downstairs like I told you too.”

Caleb walked out of the bathroom and as he turned to apologize the door was shut behind him. Caleb walked downstairs trying to shake off the embarrassment and hoped Solovyov would forget about it. He felt incredibly foolish now. Solovyov had survived thirty some years without him and must have been in worse situations than this. Caleb thought his actions must have made him look clingy and childish. He cared about the Russian and didn’t want to see him in pain, but he understood where Solovyov was coming from. He would be annoyed if someone tried to do every little thing for him.

Alexander was at the stove when Caleb got into the kitchen and he sat down at the table. He asked the older boy if he needed help but Alexander shook his head and declined. He told Caleb he didn’t feel like teaching him how to make Blini at the moment. Caleb looked out the slider door and saw Scott lying out by the pool.

He was wearing one of his favorite bathing suits. Tight white swimming trunks made his tan skin even darker and Caleb had to admit he had one hell of a body. He never knew why Scott stopped swimming competitively but he kept his swimmers body in top shape. He was lean but coated with tan cords of muscle on his arms and legs. His abdomen was rippled deliciously and the way he held his hands behind his head as he lay in the sun extenuated every divot and rise on his body. Despite the presumably perfect body Scott possessed and Caleb’s own charm and undeniably adorable face and smooth, lean body, the two had never been attracted to each other, much to the disappointment of a few of their girl friends at school. Of course, that fact didn’t upset them nearly as much as their lack of attraction to the opposite sex.

When Caleb looked away from his good friend he turned to Alexander who was also looking out the window at Scott with a look that the blonde couldn’t quite place. If Caleb wasn’t so sure Alexander was straight he would have thought that the older boy was actually checking Scott out. The way his jaw set and his eyes focused certainly suggested it. But when Alexander ripped his eyes away and brought the spatula back to the pan Caleb knocked the thought out of his head. How many times had he zoned out in class and only realized later that the girl in Morrison hall thought he had been staring at her breasts?

Alexander came over with a stack of what looked like pancakes to Caleb. He went away from the table again and came back with strawberry jam.

“Why don’t you tell your friend breakfast is ready…well Lunch for us,” Alexander suggested.

“Why don’t you?” Caleb asked. The older boy was literally standing three feet from the slider door but he refused to turn around.

“He’s your friend,” was his reply. His dark eyes avoided Caleb’s gaze and he sat down at the table. Caleb rolled his eyes and slid open the slider door.

“Scott, Breakfast…or Lunch,” he called and Scott replied with a wave of his hand. Caleb went back to the table just as Solovyov was coming down the stairs. He walked without much of a struggle but he continually rubbed his shoulder. He said nothing as he sat down at the table and used his right hand to gather his Blini onto his plate. His face was neutral as it usually was. Occasionally, as he spread the jam over his meal his eye brows would knit together and his lips would purse. Caleb wanted to ask what was wrong but he felt now that anything he said would be taken by the mobster as an insult. He didn’t want to get Solovyov angry with him and he was certain that at the moment the slightest inclination that Caleb doubted Russian’s ability to take care of himself he would become thoroughly annoyed.

Michael walked into the room and sat down at the table wordlessly and put a stack on his plate. Solovyov was unfazed by the new entrance and continued to stare at the center of the table in thought. Alexander did the same, trying to figure out what was so fascinating on the table cloth. Caleb watched as Michael shoved the food into his mouth as if he hadn’t eaten in months. His attention was directed toward the pool when he saw Michael’s eyebrows raise and his fork fall away from his mouth.

“Damn,” Michael breathed and leaned back. Caleb looked back at the glass and saw Scott stepping inside. Solovyov looked away from the table and over at Scott along with the rest of those at the table. Caleb felt a tug of jealously in his stomach as he watched the Russian look over his friend’s hard body but it was slightly abated when the Russian looked back at the table after only seconds and his face gave no signs of being impressed.

“Smells good,” Scott said and stood right next to Alexander. Because of Alexander’s superior height Alexander’s head, while seated, was level with his upper abdomen. Alexander looked straight ahead, despite the magnificent abs that were directly at eye level. He tried to act unfazed but extreme annoyance was plastered across his face. Scott placed a hand on Alexander’s shoulder and smiled, leaning foreward, and nearly pressing himself into the side of Alexander’s face. “Good job, Sasha.”

He sat down at the table and put some on his plate.

“Don’t you want to get dressed?” Alexander snapped. Solovyov looked between the two with a frown.

“Why, I’m going swimming.”

The two began to argue and Caleb tried to catch Solovyov’s eye. The Russian ate in silence and Michael was failing miserably at his attempt to subtly look Scott over. When they finished eating Scott helped Alexander clear the table while Solovyov went out to the pool without a word. He settled down in one of the lounge chairs and closed his eyes. Caleb followed him out timidly and sat down at a chair near him. Solovyov looked over at him after a few minutes and his face softened slightly. He extended his good hand toward Caleb and the boy felt some of his nerves loosen. Caleb got up and put his hand in his, sitting on the side of his lounge chair.

“Shouldn’t you have a sling?” Caleb asked before he could stop himself but Solovyov seemed unfazed. Solovyov looked at his bad shoulder as Caleb sat down at the edge of the chair and wrapped his other hand around the Russians hand.

“It only grazed the skin. There’s no need,” Solovyov smiled at Caleb and stroked his cheek with his thumb. “Why don’t you go get in your bathing suit hmm?”

He winked subtly and Caleb blushed deeply.

“You’d like that?” Caleb asked and Solovyov’s free hand went up the boy’s shirt. His warm hand grazed over the smooth firm skin of his stomach and chest.

“Very much. Perhaps more if you have a bathing suit like your friend there,” he said and Caleb jumped when his nipple was pinched between Solovyov’s thumb and forefinger.   
“Something that will show off that tight little ass I want so bad.”

Caleb leaned forward and placed a kiss to the Russian’s lips before getting off of the chair and returning to the house. As he went back in he passed Scott who was humming contently to himself. Inside the house was Alexander leaning on his palms against the kitchen counter. His hair, cut the same as his uncle’s, was slightly out of place and he stood tensely.

“You ok?” Caleb asked and Alexander stood up but kept his face toward Caleb. He began messing around in the sink, picking up and putting down plates as he spoke.

“I’m fine,” he said shortly.

“Alright. I’m just gonna go get my bathing suit on,” Caleb said and began walking to the stairs.

“That’s great, another fucking fag walking around in a Speedo.” He said and Caleb stopped.

“That was uncalled for,” Caleb said and when Alexander nodded and mumbled an apology. Caleb was annoyed but began walking back to the stairs before adding, “And they aren’t speedos. They’re square cut swim trunks.”

He got upstairs and quickly slipped into a bathing suit. He examined himself in the mirror for a few moments. He was tan, not as tan as Scott, but tan. His body was perfectly smooth with the slight hint of the muscle that lay underneath. He may not have as perfect a body as Scott did but Caleb was sure that Solovyov was more interested in his type of body and he felt more comfortable as he went down the stairs. He grabbed his camera as he left the room and wrapped it around his neck. Michael was outside when Caleb reentered the pool area and he was wearing board shorts. He was skinny and rather pale and Caleb, although he felt bad about it afterward, briefly wondered why a man like Iosef Petrov wanted someone like him.

“No way can you do it,” Michael was saying to Scott who was soaking wet and up on the diving board.

“Of course I can,” Scot said bouncing his weight on the board. “What do you think Sasha?”

Caleb’s attention was brought over to Alexander who was sitting in jeans and a black t-shirt. He was holding a book in his hand and he didn’t bring his eyes up from the pages.  
“Do not break your neck,” Caleb heard Solovyov call from his chair. His legs were crossed at the ankles and his feet were bare. He even looked more comfortable than Alexander and Solovyov never looked comfortable.

“I won’t,” Scott assured him and Caleb picked up his camera. He focused on Scott, who had seen him and waited for him to steady his camera. Once Caleb was ready Scott jumped three or four times until he was high enough in the air and propelled himself forward. He spun himself one and a half times in the air before coming down hard on his back and large splash. Michael broke out in laughter and even Solovyov cracked a smile. Scott jumped up from underneath the water and treaded water toward Caleb. “Get any good shots?”  
“A few,” Caleb answered and went over to Solovyov. Scott jumped up onto the pool deck and walked closer to Caleb. He silently got Caleb’s attention and motioned for him to pick up his camera. Caleb spotted Alexander reading and nodded. He raised his camera and felt Michael run up next to him to get a better look. Scott took a few steps back before running for the pool and jumping in. He wrapped his body into a cannon ball and landed as close to the edge of the pool as he could without hurting himself.

The splash swelled up in the middle and exploded upwards. Alexander was on his feet almost before the water hit him and he threw his book to the side.  
“What the fuck was that!” Alecander screamed, more anger than was warranted bubbling out of him.

“If you were in a bathing suit we wouldn’t have this problem,” Scott replied.

“Uncle Grisha!” He yelled his voice almost cracking.

“I didn’t see anything,” was the reply and the Russian closed his eyes and laid his head on the built in pillow of the lounge chair. Alexander collected his book and made his way for the doors.

“Going to put your bathing suit on?”

“Fuck you!” Alexander shouted.

“I know you won’t look as good as me but that is nothing to be ashamed of,” Scott said and Caleb went over to Solovyov. He sat down when he heard the doors slam shut behind Alexander.

“Want to see mine?” Michael asked as he came to stand with Caleb and Solovyov. The Russian’s dark eyes fluttered open and his eyebrows raised.

“I am sure Petrov would not approve,” he said and closed his eyes again. Michael turned beat red and Caleb bit back a smile.

“I mean my scar,” Michael said and pulled up a chair. He pointed to his shoulder and for the first time Caleb noticed the circular raised and discolored skin.

“And it came out here,” Michael said and turned showed the back of his shoulder.

“Very good,” Solovyov said. “Welcome to club.”

Michael smiled as he turned back.

“Adrik ordered it actually,” Michael said. “Our relationship still isn’t the best.”

“My relationship with him is not best either,” Solovyov told him.

Michael nodded and looked over toward the pool. Without a word he got up and walked over to Scott.

Caleb moved over to Solovyov’s chair and the Russian opened his eyes and smiled. One of his hands touched the side of his rib cage before sliding down to his waist.

“You should wear this more often,” Solovyov said. “Let me put your sun screen on.” Caleb called to Scott who threw his tanning lotion over. Solovyov, without moving, applied the lotion to his hand and slowly smeared it across his chest. The cool cream felt good against Caleb’s hot skin and Caleb felt an erection coming on. He tried to fight it. Scott would be ruthless if he saw it and the bathing suit did nothing to conceal his arousal.

The Russian’s fingers brushed across his nipples and down the side of his rib cage. His skin glistened and he felt goosebumps on his skin. Solovyov’s hand slowed when it got to the waist band of Caleb’s bathing suit. His thumb slipped under the fabric and brushed over the neatly trimmed hair surrounding his now growing member. Solovyov’s eyes left Caleb’s and looked at stretching fabric. He applied more but this time placed his hands on Caleb’s thighs. Caleb, unable to stop himself, let out a groan trying to keep himself quiet. Solovyov nudged his smooth, hairless thighs apart and gently massaged the oils deeper into his soft skin.

“Oh, God. Grigori,” Caleb whispered and the Russian’s good hand went to cup the boy’s hard cock. He could have exploded then and there if it weren’t for the knowledge that Michael and Scott were behind him.

“They aren’t watching,” Solovyov whispered as he rubbed his hand back and forth over the hard cock. “You’re so responsive.” He praised and pulled the bathing suit down. 

Caleb’s erection spilled outward toward the Russian and he gripped it at the base. “I’ve never given head before Caleb. But this cock I’m actually tempted to suck.” He smiled at Caleb’s reaction. “You’d like that wouldn’t you?”

“Yes,” he breathed out.

“Maybe if you’re a good boy,” he replied and began pumping his fist up and down. Every time his hand closed around the sensitive pink head Caleb would try to stifle a moan. Solovyov looked over his shoulder to see Scott and Michael completely oblivious and taking turns diving into the water. “You make the best faces when you are aroused. I wonder what it is you will look like when my cock is buried balls deep in your asshole.”

Caleb’s balls tightened and he choked out a moan. Thick, white spurts of cum shot from his slit and landed on his abdomen. Solovyov watched with a satisfied expression and readjusted his pants to hide his own half erect cock. He scooped up some of the cum from Caleb’s stomach and brought it to his lips. Caleb watched, his cheeks flushed, as the Russian licked off the white substance.

“Hmmm, why don’t you go clean yourself up?”

Caleb nodded and stood up on slightly shaky legs.

“If I were at full strength right now, I’d throw you down right here and fuck you raw.” The words came out laced with a thicker accent than usual and Caleb breathed out deeply.  
“Wish you were,” he whispered and Solovyov’s eyes brows rose.

“Really?” he asked and watched as Caleb tried to hide his stomach from the others. His cheeks were still flushed and his hair was ruffled. His tongue darted out and licked his dry lips.

“Yeah,” he said softy and nodded. He looked at Solovyov a few more seconds before he turned and retreated into the house to find the bathroom.


	21. Chapter Twenty One

For the rest of the day they all stayed by the pool with the exception of Alexander who had barricaded himself in his bedroom. Solovyov fell in and out of sleep throughout the day but Caleb was never far from him. He went swimming only when he got excessively hot and made sure Solovyov always had a cold glass of water next to him. Of course the Russian never ceased his complaining at his lack of vodka.

“Why did I send you out last night?” He asked when Caleb came back with a glass of water and Caleb shrugged. Solovyov got up a few times and went into the house himself and reentered the pool area a few minutes later. Caleb assumed it was for his pain medicine and didn’t say anything. He only helped Solovyov when the Russian asked for it and the older man seemed in a much better mood.

When it was about five o’clock Solovyov informed them that was going inside and left the three boys alone. Caleb was surprised at the abruptness but he was beginning to realize that that was just how the Russian operated. Caleb, in an attempt to appear as if he was not following the Russian stayed outside for another half hour.

Caleb left Michael and Scott wrestling in the pool and went inside to find Solovyov was lying on the couch. The T.V was on but he was focused on his blackberry. Caleb walked around to the front of the couch and Solovyov looked up at him.

“I thought you would come out sooner,” Solovyov said and reached an arm up so Caleb would sit down next to him. “I am leaving in the morning.”

“What?” Caleb asked and automatically gripped the hem of the Russians shirt in a fist, as if he could keep in place.

“But you’re still hurt,” Caleb said and Solovyov touched his face.

“Don’t get excited. Petrov needs my help with few things. I won’t be over-exerting myself.” He smiled and patted Caleb’s cheek.

“You could get killed,” Caleb said softly.

“I could be killed every day. It’s part of life I have chosen for myself.” Solovyov told him. “It is same for Petrov and Michael seems to accept that.”

“Michael doesn’t know his ass from his elbow. He doesn’t understand what’s going on. He’s not nearly emotionally mature enough. To him Petrov is invincible,” Caleb’s voice nearly cracked and he stopped himself before he went any further.

“Is that why you’re so upset? You think I was invincible? Now you know I’m not?”

Caleb felt tears prick at his eyes and he looked down at the hand that was still gripping Solovyov’s shirt. He gently rubbed the material through his thumb and pointer finger gently moving his mouth from side to side on his face as he thought.

“Come with me,” Solovyov said and got up off the couch. He threaded his fingers through Caleb’s and led him up the stairs slowly. As they got to his bedroom door he turned around and embraced Caleb gently. His lips took possession of Caleb’s in a gentle kiss. “I want you Caleb.”

The Russian’s voice was a soft whisper. Caleb looked up when Solovyov pulled back and looked into his dark eyes. They were hooded with desire and Caleb felt his chest constrict as he looked at the Russian. A wave of affection over took him and he nodded. He reached up and tucked a stray strand of the Russian’s hair back in place.

Solovyov brought Caleb into the bedroom by the hand and stopped inches from the bed. He wrapped his arms around the boy and brought his lips down on Caleb’s mouth. Caleb wrapped his arms around Solovyov’s neck and pressed his mouth to the Russian’s with hot need. He sucked the Russian’s tongue into his mouth and pressed their tongues together. Solovyov quickly pinned down Caleb’s tongue and took command of the kiss. His body was fragile and while he couldn’t take the control he wanted physically Solovyov was sure that Caleb knew he was in charge.

Caleb helped Solovyov remove his shirt, their mouths only parting to pull the fabric over his head. Solovyov’s range of motion was limited and needed considerable help. Caleb was still in only his bathing suit, and so Solovyov pulled the boy closer, relishing at the feel of their skin pressed together. Caleb was so soft and lean that Solovyov struggled to remember the last time he had a sweeter boy in his bed.

Caleb moaned into Solovyov’s mouth when the Russian’s fingers gently rubbed over his nipple. The other hand was pulling on Caleb’s swim trunks, which easily slipped over his narrow hips. Solovyov moved to the bed, lowering himself down to his back gently. He winced in pain and Caleb was quick to remove his pants. His eyes looked over the bandages on Solovyov’s body and he felt a fresh new wave of affection rush through him. He was overcome with his affection and he lay down next to the Russian. He placed gentle kissed to his body, kissing his throat, his nipples and his abdomen. He gave special attention to the areas around his wounds, but made sure to be especially gentle.

When he got to Solovyov’s erection he dragged his tongue over the hot flesh. Solovyov moaned as his cock was taken into Caleb’s mouth and Caleb smiled up at him. He wanted to put off the actual sex as long as he could. He was deathly afraid of anal sex. While it was true that he wanted to wait until he found that special person the horrible fear he felt about being fucked always made his resolve stronger.

Solovyov saw the brief moment of panic on Caleb’s face and gently brushed a hand over Caleb’s hair. The Russian’s large hands cupping his cheek and running through his hair brought forth another swell of affection that smothered Caleb’s fear.

“I’ll be gentle with you,” Solovyov told him and then motioned to the large white bandage on his abdomen. “I have to.”

Caleb nodded and stood. Solovyov told him to get some lube from his bag and Caleb did.

“You will be doing most of work,” Solovyov said as he leaned back. His hands rested on his stomach as he looked up at Caleb. Caleb only nodded and opened the lube. His breathy was a little hard, but he was more excited than scared at this point. He squeezed some lube onto his hand and massaged it over Solovyov’s hard erection. He was about to settle himself over Solovyov when the Russian stopped him.

“It will hurt less if you lube yourself as well,” he said. Caleb lubricated himself, stretching himself out with his fingers as best as he could. “Come here.”

Caleb walked up closer to Solovyov and got onto his knees. Solovyov motioned for him to come closer and Caleb sucked in a breath. He gently sucked the tip of Caleb’s cock before taking more into his mouth. He had lied to Caleb when he said he had never given head before. When he was young and living in his little village in the middle of Russia he hadn’t had many choices for lovers. His first, a man considerably older than him, hadn’t been the kindest to him. Not only had the man cruelly shoved his cock down Solovyov’s throat as brutally and deeply as he could, he gave no concern to Solovyov’s pleasure or well being. It had been so violent Solovyov had thrown up directly afterward, his gag reflex unable to take anymore.

Following that, his one and only time receiving anal sex had been disastrous. Borya had not thought it was important to prepare Solovyov, physically or emotionally. Solovyov had returned home that night, bleeding and crying. He felt not only ashamed and hurt but also foolish. He blamed himself for not realizing what Borya was like beforehand. The first time he gave a blowjob Borya had shoved his cock so far down his throat he couldn’t breathe. He had down this to some of his own lovers but only after making sure it was what they wanted and that it was not their first time. After those experiences with Borya, Solovyov decided he would always be the one in control in the bedroom.

This was a special circumstance though. He wanted Caleb to relax and feel comfortable. He was terrified, actually terrified, that Caleb would change his mind. He had waited months for this boy. He hadn’t even so much as gotten a blowjob from another man and he was ready to blow… literally.

He felt Caleb shudder as he worked his tongue along the shaft. He gripped Caleb’s cock at the base and was surprised that he felt just as in control now as he did when he gripped the heads of young men between his hands and controlled the pace in which they pleasured him.

“Come closer,” Solovyov said softly and the boy immediately and Caleb complied, his cheeks flushed red. Solovyov kept Caleb’s swollen cock in his hands but lowered his mouth to his balls. He spent a few moments dragging his tongue against the sensitive skin before moving lower. He licked the tight puckered hole and pulled back. “Do you shave Caleb?” He asked curiously but with a hint of amusement.

“Yes,” Caleb said and felt his face turn bright red. Solovyov smiled and continued to lick around the tight hole. It was not completely enjoyable, despite the lube being flavored, it had a strange taste all the same and took away from the moment. But it had the desire affect and Caleb moaned as a shudder ripped through his body. Solovyov pressed in a finger and felt Caleb’s whole body tense. Solovyov stood up and looked down at Caleb.

“It’s ok Caleb. You will need to relax.” He ran his knuckles over Caleb’s cheek. “I won’t hurt you.”

He pressed another finger inside Caleb and he winced.

“Shhh,” Solovyov whispered. When he worked his fingers in and out of Caleb the boy opened his mouth to speak. To prevent any protest Solovyov brought his other hand to the head of Caleb’s cock and he moaned instead of speaking.

“You need to relax,” Solovyov cooed.

He ran his hands over Caleb’s shoulders, down his arms and up his chest. Caleb closed his eyes and Solovyov watched him silently. He continued to caress the boy under his hands, patiently taking in his beauty as Caleb collected himself. His skin was flushed and though it was faint, Solovyov could feel his body tremble under his hands.  
“Do you trust me Caleb?” He asked. Caleb nodded. “Then you know I would never hurt you.”

“Have you ever taken anyone’s virginity before?” He asked and his blue eyes fluttered open. Solovyov watched his hand as it ran over the lightly tanned body of his soon to be lover and considered lying. But, although it would put Caleb at ease Solovyov decided to be honest.

“No,” He replied. “I’ll be careful with you, Caleb. Just relax. Now, straddle me.”

The room was silent and Caleb’s heart was pounding thunderously in his ears. Caleb did as he was told, and hovered over Solovyov’s throbbing cock.  
“Are you ready?” Solovyov asked. Caleb looked down, a frown threatening to spill over his face but Solovyov was too busy watching his fingers enter Caleb’s bottom.  
“You need a condom,” Caleb said and Solovyov’s head snapped up toward immediately.

“I’m clean,” he said his voice sharp. Caleb who let out a moan as one of Solovyov’s fingers ventured farther into him missed the curtness and shook his head.  
“You need a condom,” He replied again and Solovyov removed his fingers.

“Finger yourself,” Solovyov ordered, pushing Caleb off of him and went back to the bathroom. Caleb pushed his fingers inside of himself and gripped his now throbbing erection. Despite his fear the stimulation had sent shockwaves of pleasure through him. The stimulation coupled with Solovyov’s low accented voice and sharp Russian features worked Caleb up into rock hard arousal. Solovyov came back with a condom in hand and waited to apply it until right in front of Caleb. The condom itself was lubricated and Solovyov had been generous with the amount of lubrication he had placed on Caleb.

“Should you get back on your back?” Caleb asked as Solovyov placed himself at Caleb’s entrance. Solovyov shook his head.

“No, your body will be more relaxed if you are on your hands and knees. When you sit up the muscles in your bottom tighten. This is the best for anal penetration.” Caleb smiled. Solovyov always sounded more Russian when he used phrases like ‘anal penetration’.

“Will you be alright?” Caleb asked as he got onto his hands and knees.

“I will be fine,” Solovyov said, thought he was already beginning to feel some pain at the exertion. He was not about to turn back now. “Ready?”

Solovyov pushed the head of his erect cock into Caleb and it took intense self-control not to thrust right into him. The warm tightness was exquisite and the small moan of discomfort coming from Caleb was one of the sweetest things he had ever heard. He kept one hand on his dick and moved another to Caleb’s cheek. “I’ll go as slow as you need,” Solovyov told him but he didn’t know how long he could wait. Caleb nodded and waited a few moments. He told Solovyov to go on with a nod but the Russian moved in slowly.  
Caleb’s mind had virtually shut down and he was trying to register the new sensations coursing through him. It hurt. There was definitely pain, but underneath it, almost like a glimpse of what anal sex could be, was a shimmer of pleasure. A little tingle and pressure that went straight through Caleb’s erection, and Caleb didn’t know what feeling to focus on. Solovyov’s hand gently brushed the side of Caleb’s face and Caleb brought up his own hand to clutch at it. Solovyov moved in a few more inches until he was three quarters of the way there.

“How’s that feel?” Solovyov asked against his ear and Caleb could only nod. Solovyov himself felt sweat beads forming on his forehead and a slight pull of pain in his abdomen. His shoulder was already aching, but he knew the pleasure to come would surely outweigh it. He mentally made a note to take twice as much medication later tonight. Perhaps he could sneak a small glass of vodka. Solovyov leaned down and placed a soft kiss to Caleb’s cheek. Caleb leaned into him with a neediness that frightened Solovyov and he pulled back sharply, this also went by unnoticed to Caleb. He didn’t want Caleb to think this was any more than what it was.

They were not making love.

That he hoped was abundantly clear. He didn’t think Caleb had any misconceptions about his feelings. He had given him his space and time, but he didn’t think he had drastically misled the boy. He just wanted to fuck him. Caleb wanted a relationship before having sex, and he had given him a relationship. Solovyov just hoped Caleb didn’t think things would continue as they had after this.

He kissed Caleb’s jaw instead and stroked Caleb’s cock. He began to pull out of Caleb and he watched Caleb’s lips open and close rapidly. He always felt an immense sense of power when he was having sex. He loved watching the usually young, lean bodies quiver underneath him when he pounded into them. The only thing that was a potential disappointment about the taking of Caleb’s virginity was that he would not be able to do everything he wanted. His own physical impairment would not allow him to exert all of his energy on the boy.

He slowly and steadily pushed his hips back toward Caleb, this time going in deeper. Caleb’s hand was over Solovyov’s as the Russian jerked him off. The Russian’s thrusts remained steady and slow. He wanted nothing more than to slam into Caleb and hear him scream but he kept himself slow and steady.

“Oh, fuck Caleb,” he breathed and kissed the boy’s collar bone. He pulled back and grabbed onto Caleb’s hips hard, almost bruising the boy’s thin hips. Caleb’s hand worked frantically on his erection and his panting breaths were spurring Solovyov on. “I’m going to move faster.”

Caleb nodded and Solovyov picked up his speed. He watched his hard, throbbing erection slide into the tight, welcoming skin of Caleb before rolling his head back to look at the ceiling. He kept his eyes closed as he slid into him. He found himself growing irrationally annoyed at the lack of noise from Caleb and took one violent thrust into Caleb. The boy cried out in surprise and pain but surprisingly, to both Caleb and Solovyov, a low moan quickly followed.

Solovyov, acting without much thought, placed his hand on Caleb’ throat, wrapping his fingers around him firmly but without prohibiting the boy’s breathing. Caleb’s eyes widened and he opened his mouth.

“Be quiet,” Solovyov said huskily. “Unless you’re going to scream or moan, be quiet.”

Caleb’s mouth closed and he looked up at the Russian with wide eyes. Both bodies were coated with a layer of sweat and Caleb wanted to be closer to Solovyov. With each thrust he felt himself growing closer and closer to completion and along with the growing level of pleasure was a desire to feel Solovyov against him. He wanted to touch the Russian but he was not in the ideal position to do so.

One of Solovyov’s hands had moved to the back of Caleb’s neck, but the other remained on his hips and Caleb reached for it. He just held onto the Russian as hard as he could. Eventually, Solovyov took his hand away. Caleb chose not to read much into it, simply enjoy the feeling.

Finally, when Caleb felt he could take no more Solovyov took possession of Caleb’s hard erection from the boy and pumped him rapidly. The Russian’s hips began to move more erratically and without its past tempo. Caleb came with one of the most amazing orgasms he had felt and coated the bed with cords of hot, white cum. Solovyov himself climaxed inside of Caleb. His body shuddered slightly and he pulled out his soft member.

He peeled off the condom and deposited it in the bathroom waste basket. When he came back Caleb was still on the bed and he chuckled. “That was wonderful… simply beautiful.”

“Ditto,” Caleb replied and Solovyov looked him over.

“You only bled a little,” he informed the still recovering boy.

“I bled?” Caleb asked and sat up to fast. He winced and lay back on the bed.

“Only a little. That’s what you get from using half a bottle of fucking lube,” Solovyov said and opened a green bottle that lay on the table. He downed three white pills and lay down next to Caleb. He said nothing when Caleb scooted closer to him and wrapped an arm, gingerly, over his stomach. He rested his flushed blonde head on the Russian’s chest and tangled his feet with Solovyov’s.

“Did you enjoy yourself?”Solovyov asked.

“Yes,” Caleb said and kissed Solovyov’s chest. Solovyov stared at the ceiling and tried to work out his feelings for Caleb. Things were getting dangerously intimate between them and Solovyov didn’t like it. Even though he wasn’t able to have Caleb the way he wanted him, hard and fast, he had gotten what he wanted from the boy. So it was time to move on, but the blonde brought a strange but welcome calm to him and last night the mere presence of him had soothed him into sleep. And now, the boy was cuddling with him in bed after they made…had sex. He could feel the emotion emanating from Caleb and he was afraid he got in too deep this time. He never was one to admit defeat.

He listened as Caleb’s breathing evened out and the boy’s feet ceased their playful stroking of Solovyov’s legs and feet. Solovyov was up a few hours after Caleb had already fallen asleep doing his best to clear his mind. By the time he fell asleep his mind was anything but clear.


	22. Chapter Twenty Two

Caleb woke up in a better mood than he had been in a long time. He smiled and turned over to where he thought Solovyov would be laying. Instead he was met with an empty bed and tangled sheets. He looked around and spotted Solovyov standing in front of the full length mirror in the center of the room. He was in a beautiful charcoal pin stripe suit and his hair was once again neatly combed. The look on his face was grave and stony, but Caleb did not think there was anything different about him. He was in his normal sour mood.

“Good morning,” Solovyov said stiffly when he saw Caleb sitting up in the mirror.

“You’re leaving already?” Caleb asked and put on some boxers. Solovyov nodded and looked at his watch.

“Fifteen minutes my car will be here,” he said and turned around to look at Caleb. He took a deep sigh when Caleb smiled sweetly at him and the smile left Caleb’s face.

“What’s wrong?” Caleb asked and pulled on a pair of jeans.

“Caleb, sit down,” Solovyov said after looking at him silently for a long moment. Caleb sat down on the bed and Solovyov sat down next to him. Caleb looked at Solovyov but the Russian would not turn to look at him. Instead he looked at the closed door ten feet away. “I think we should cease communications.”

Caleb looked at him with a blank expression. The words barely registered and he blinked. “What?”

“I said we should –”

“Why?” Caleb asked and his voice almost broke.

“I,” he paused trying to choose his words carefully. “I feel that our relationship is coming to end. It is not prudent for a man of my lifestyle to be in a long term relationship –”

“Mobsters have girlfriends or boyfriends all the time,” Caleb said successfully pushed down the swell of tears he felt pooling inside of him. “Mr. Petrov –”

“I have made my decision Caleb,” Solovyov said and stood up. Caleb looked down at the floor and realized Solovyov’s bags were already gone. “I am very sorry. Stay here until the city is safe then go home.”

“No,” Caleb said and Solovyov turned around. He was halfway through the door and looked at Caleb sternly.

“Caleb don’t be foolish,” Solovyov snapped.

“I came here because of you. If we are not together then I won’t stay here.”

Caleb wiped his nose and went to the dresser. He began pulling out clothes and Solovyov stood in the doorway watching him.

“You are being childish Caleb. It’s dangerous,” Solovyov said again.

“What do you care?” Caleb snapped. He felt like his chest was going to implode and he was hardly containing his tears. Solovyov was silent and looked at the floor.

“What about Michael?” Solovyov asked and Caleb froze. “If you leave, Scott will go and you will leave Michael alone. Is that fair?”

“Alexander will be here,” Caleb said.

“And he has been so warm with Michael thus far,” Solovyov said sarcastically. “I don’t care what you do, but remember this decision affects more than yourself.”

Caleb stood still for a moment, his back to the door, before he spun around.

“I don –”

His voice broke off when he saw the Russian had gone and he walked to the doorway. He managed to catch just a glimpse of him walking around the corner and down the stairs. Caleb opened his eyes wide and looked up at the ceiling in an attempt to keep his tears at bay. He wouldn’t cry over him. He should have known a man like him wouldn’t stick around for long anyway.

Caleb turned to go back into his room. He would shower, get dressed and go down stairs like nothing happened. That was in plan anyway, but when he got into the room and he saw the bed, the blankets tangled from sleep, the room smelling of sex, he felt the floodgates opened and went into the bathroom to hide in shame.  
_

Caleb emerged from his room around three thirty that afternoon with the two bags he had brought with him in his hands. As he placed them next to the front door Scott came into the room with a bag of ice to his rib cage.

“What happened to you?” Caleb asked blandly and Scott was about to answer when he spotted Caleb’s bags.

“Where are you going?” Scott asked in return. Caleb looked down at his hands and placed his hand on the back of his neck. He shrugged before answering.

“Home,” Caleb told him and Scott frowned.

“Home?” Caleb let out a shaky breath and nodded. He looked at the small plastic bag of ice that Scott had pressed to his ribs and thought a moment. Scott knew something was bothering his friend but wouldn’t ask. The moment you asked Caleb anything he refused to answer. He had to come to you with the information. Scott waited, crunching the bag under his fingers.

“Grigori…Solovyov doesn’t want to see me anymore,” Caleb said and felt a new wave of shame come crashing down on him.

“He broke up with you?” Scott asked lowering the bag form his ribs and moving closer to Caleb. He stopped at the edge of the coffee table. Caleb was still a good distance away, standing just a few feet from the door.

“We weren’t dating I guess. Can’t break up with me if we weren’t dating,” Caleb held back his tears well but Scott could hear the quiver in his voice.

“Aww, I’m sorry Cale,” He said, using the nickname he reserved for when his friend was upset. “To bad you couldn’t gotten a piece of him before he left.”

It was an attempt to add levity to the situation but Caleb broke out into tears and Scott dropped the bag of ice on the table and went to his friend.

“Aw fuck, I didn’t know,” Scott said. “I’m damn at good at sticking my foot in my mouth aren’t I?”

“I’m fine,” Caleb said collecting himself and wiping the tears away from his eyes.

“When?”

“Last night,” Caleb admitted. “I can’t stay here.”

“You can’t go back to the city Caleb. It’s a war zone there,” Scott said and Caleb nodded. Caleb had gotten himself under control and was looking down at his bags.

“I’m going to go home, Scott,” he said. “to my parents’.”

Scott’s eyes widened and he crossed his arms.

“Really? Home?” he was nearly as shocked as Caleb was at his decision. Caleb nodded and sat down on the steps that lead from the door. He buried his head in his hands and tried to think. He felt Scott sit down next to him and an arm wrapped around him. He leaned into his friend and let a few more tears leave his eyes.

“I really liked him,” Caleb managed to get out and Scott held him closer.

“I know Cale,” Scott said. “Dude’s an asshole. You’re better off without him.” Caleb nodded but his shoulders shook. He allowed himself to cry for a few more minutes before wiping the tears away once again and rising. He put on a jacket he had brought down with him and looked at Scott.

“Stay here until school starts back up ok?” he asked and Scott began to shake his head.

“I came here because of you, I’m not staying with people who fucked you over,” Scott said and it was Caleb’s turn to shake his head. He didn’t want Scott taking this out on Michael. Scott disliked Alexander to begin with so Caleb didn’t worry about their relationship falling apart, but Michael was a good kid who was in desperate need of friendship. He didn’t want both of them leaving Michael to try and figure out what he did wrong. Plus, leaving him with Alexander was just mean.

“It’s not safe in the city. No way will my parents let you stay at their house. Just stay here, it’s only a few more months. Besides, Michael needs someone to hang out with,” Caleb said.

“Michael doesn’t care about me, it’s you he likes,” Scott argued.

“Please Scott. He’s got issues. Just stay,” Caleb said and Scott looked at him a few moments. Had it been anyone else but Caleb he would have told him to screw off but Caleb had done so much for him in the past and had never asked for anything in return. Scott felt he owed it to Caleb and he would do anything to make Caleb feel better.

“Alright. I’ll stay,” he said and Caleb nodded.

“Do you know where Michael is?” he asked. “I want to say goodbye. Oh and can you drive me to my parents, so you can bring the car back?”

“Yeah, yeah sure,” Scott said and turned around. “Michael’s at the pool.”

Scott led Caleb through the living room, stopping to pick up the ice from the table and placed it to his ribs. When they walked in through the kitchen Alexander was sitting at the table eating a sandwich. He and Scott glared at each other coolly before the two friends slipped onto the patio. Michael was lying on a lawn chair doing his damnedest to get a light tan but only managed to turn a light pink.

“Hey, Mikey,” Caleb said and sat down on the chair next to him.

“Hey,” he said and opened his eyes. “Why aren’t you in your bathing suit? We could go swimming.”

“I’m actually going back to the city,” Caleb said and Michael sat up, an almost pained expression on his face.

“Why?” He ran a hand through his hair and squinted into the sun.

“It’s uh…” Caleb itched the side of his face as he tried to think. “Things didn’t work out with me and Solovyov. So I’m going home. Scott will be staying though,” he added quickly and motioned to Scott. Michael looked less than excited.

“So, I’m not going to be seeing you anymore?” he asked and Caleb shook his head.

“Oh, no, of course you will. We’re still friends. I just probably won’t be able to see you until the end of the summer. How about this, once you are back in the city, you and I will go out to lunch, catch a movie or something. Sound good?” he asked and Michael nodded. A smile crossed the younger boys face and he seemed genuinely pleased. He brought a hand to the back of his neck and looked between the two boys.

“Can I go for the ride with you guys?” Michael asked and Scott shrugged. Caleb stood and nodded.

“I don’t see why not,” he replied and Michael smiled and jumped up. He quickly informed them that he would just go get dressed and be right down. Scott and Caleb waited for him in the kitchen. Alexander dumped his dirty plate in the sink when they entered and made for the stairs. Right before he was out of sight and turned back and looked at Scott.

“How are your ribs?”

Scott didn’t answer him but instead shot him a nasty smile and the Russian smirked and turned back to the stairs. Caleb looked at Scott a few moments. He didn’t think that it was wise to antagonize someone like Alexander. Caleb was not entirely sure he was even stable. The American born Russian seemed to have a desire to be deep into the brotherhood. He struck Caleb as the type of person who would kill for fun, someone who would not forget past slights. He was going to explain this to Scott, try to get him to leave the older boy alone, but Michael came bounding down the stairs. He had brushed his hair and changed into a simple pair of baggy jeans and a t-shirt.

“Doesn’t Petrov buy you clothes?” Scott asked, voicing Caleb’s silent question. Michael frowned and looked down at himself.

“Yeah. He buys me stuffy clothing. Like you and Caleb wear,” Michael said and pointed at the tight fitting polos, skinny jeans and brown leather flip flops. The two boys looked down at their clothing and then at each other.

“What’s wrong with what we are wearing?” Caleb asked.

“Nothing, I just don’t find it comfortable. I’d much rather wear a t-shirt and jeans,” he told them looking at his own style of clothing. “I’m simple.” He smiled.

“We’re simple,” Caleb said as they began walking to the door. He picked up his bags and flung one over his shoulder.

“Oh please, you wear cardigans,” Michael said and opened the door for him. Caleb and Scott laughed softly.

“I guess we aren’t that simple,” Scott said and helped Caleb put his things in the trunk. “Shit.”

“What?” Caleb asked before he got into the driver’s seat. They all leaned against the car and spoke over the roof.

“I can’t drive a stick,” He said and Caleb looked at him a moment before deflating.

“Dammit,”

“What’s the problem?” Michael asked.

“Dipshit here can’t drive a stick, so he wouldn’t be able to drive the car back up here,” Caleb said and Scott held his hands up.

“Alexander can,” Michael said and Caleb nodded.

“Scott, go ask him nicely, to drive with us to the city,” he told him and Scott scowled. He leaned against the car and looked toward the house.

“I’m not going to go ask him shit,” Scott snapped and Caleb frowned.

“Fine, I will, but that means you can’t come with us,” Caleb said and went toward the house. Scott caught him and mumbled something under his breath before heading back into the house. Caleb went to the car to wait with Michael and rested his head against the hot metal.

“So, did you and Mr. Solovyov break up?” Michael asked and Caleb nodded silently. He kept his forehead against the car and didn’t look up. His chest ached and when he moved wrong a sharp pain shot up bottom. He felt like a fool. Solovyov had never promised him anything and he had been quite clear from the beginning that he did not date. Caleb had thought, wrongly he saw now, that if he showed Solovyov some affection and what it would be like to be in a relationship he would change his mind. But Caleb only managed to get himself in too deep and break his own heart. Caleb misread all the small, gentle touches to be ones of affection or even love. Now he knew that Solovyov only wanted one thing and now that he got it he would move on. “I’m sure it will work out.”

Caleb shook his head when Michael spoke. He clearly didn’t understand the magnitude of the situation. Michael was just an ignorant kid who didn’t understand the world that he was involved in. His words of advice, as good in intention as they were, were hollow. Caleb tried to think of a scenario in which Solovyov would come back and what the hell he would do to make Caleb forgive him. It was too big a mess. Everything was far too complicated and Michael simply couldn’t understand that.

“You know Adrik right?” Michael asked and Caleb nodded. He still had a negative opinion of the man, even after what Solovyov did. “Well…” he paused, trying to figure out where to start. “You know how Petrov was in the news a lot last year? With the trial and all that?”

“Yeah, I heard about it.” Caleb said and looked up at Michael.

“If me and Petrov could get over that, I’m sure you and Solovyov can get over what ever happened,” Michael said and laughed. “I mean, Iosef had me shot.”

“What?” Caleb’s head snapped over to look at Michael.

“Well, Petrov said he never gave the order. It was mainly Adrik’s idea, but I have nothing against him now. He was just doing his job.” Michael came over the other side of the car and held his shirt collar to the side. He pointed out the grey circle of scared skin that he had showed them yesterday. “This one wasn’t bad. In and out. Didn’t hit any arteries. The one on my thigh was only a few centimeters from some major artery or something. I don’t like to talk about that one.”

“Why’d he do it?”

“It’s a long story. I ended up a star witness for the state. So I was in my...’safe house’...and it got shot up. Only got hit twice though,” he said and pulled his shirt back over his shoulder. “If Petrov can get over me turning him into the police, and I can get over his best friend trying to have me killed, then I’m sure whatever happened with you two can be resolved.”

“You and Petrov love each other Mikey. It’s different. Solovyov doesn’t want a relationship,” Caleb said and chewed the inside of his cheek. He felt tears behind his eyes but kept them subdued.

“Neither did Petrov. I don’t know what I was really, but I wasn’t his boyfriend. We got through it. We’re still getting through it. Relationships with these people are hard. They live by this crazy code that is pretty incompatible with long term, healthy relationships, but if you’re willing to work at it, you can make it work.”

He gripped Caleb’s arm warmly when he saw Scott and Alexander leave the house.

“It’ll all work out the way it’s supposed to,” Michael said and went back to the other side of the car. Caleb thought about what he said and as surprised as he was at Michael’s clarity of thought and surprisingly deep understanding of relationships he still didn’t understand what happened between Caleb and Solovyov. The Russian quite clearly said he didn’t want a relationship. His actions clearly said he only wanted sex.

Caleb would not go crawling back to man who would use him and discard him like that. He wasn’t worth Caleb’s time and love. What angered Caleb so much about the entire situation however were not Solovyov’s actions but his own. He had allowed himself to let his heart get in the way of his head and was foolish enough to believe he could change Solovyov. Like he would open Solovyov’s eyes to what love was and the Russian would suddenly want a long term, meaningful relationship.

He shook his head and looked toward the approaching boys. Scott was walking toward the car with long, purposeful strides and his face was set in stone. His lips were pressed into a flat straight line and his brow was furrowed angrily.

“What’s wrong with you?” Caleb asked and Scott walked passed him and quickly got into the back seat.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Scott said. “But he’s an asshole.”

He swung the door shut. Caleb and Michael looked at each other a brief moment, silently conveying their confusion to the other before looking to Alexander. He strolled down the steps casually, his hands in his pockets and a lazy smile on his face. It was the first real smile Caleb thought he had ever seen and it was slightly unsettling.

“Ready to go, Caleb?” he asked politely and opened the passenger side door. “Let’s go, Michael.”

Caleb and Michael looked at each other one last time before they joined the two feuding boys in the car.


	23. Chapter Twenty Three

When the car stopped in front of Caleb’s old home he was silent for a long time. He tried to collect himself, without his anxiety becoming to Michael and Alexander, but judging by the way Alexander was looking at him he had failed. Caleb, who was usually tan, suddenly looked a few shades whiter, and his tongue darted out to wet his lips. Nausea built up in Caleb’s stomach and his throat tightened. He was about to lay his head down on the steering wheel to think for a few moments but Alexander’s voice broke him out of his thoughts.

“Don’t throw up in the car,” Alexander said and Caleb was quick to nod. Scott scowled and placed his side on the middle console, his back to Alexander and his front to Caleb.

“Look, everything is going to be fine. Your parents love you, it’s not like you’re some reject kid they left on the side of the road.”

Michael’s eyes lowered to his lap in the back seat.

“They miss you, I guarantee it,” he slapped Caleb on the shoulder and he nodded. “We’ll wait, just in case.”

Caleb nodded and left the driver’s door open as he went to the trunk to retrieve his things. Alexander got into the driver’s seat and popped the trunk for Caleb.

“You know, in Europe pretty much everyone can drive a stick,” Alexander said and gripped the gear shift.

“I’m not European,” Scott said with a scowl.

“Yes,” Alexander eyed him in the rearview mirror. “You don’t have nearly enough class –”

“You’re not European either buddy! Hate to burst your little bubble,” Scott said leaning forward. “Your uncle is European, you’re as American as me.”

“My family are first generation immigrants,” Alexander snapped.

“Your family are criminals,” Scott snapped back. He opened his mouth to continue but Michael grabbed his wrist almost urgently and he stopped. He looked at the teen and the boy shook his head. Scott looked back to Alexander who was looking straight ahead but it was clear the elder boy was fuming. Caleb knocked on Scott’s window with his knuckle, breaking some of the tension in the car. Scott got out of the car with a huff, but smiled warmly when he looked at Caleb. The two exchanged hugs and Scott whispered a few more words of encouragement.

“Scott,” Caleb said when they separated. “Stop fucking with Alexander. I don’t think it’s safe.”

Scott nodded and affirmed that he would. Caleb leaned down and held out his hand to Michael. The boy took it and smiled.

“I’m serious about the lunch-date, give me a call when you’re back in the city ok,” he said and Michael nodded.

“Yeah definitely,” he replied.

“Wish me luck,” Caleb said to Scott but the blonde smiled when he heard the soft spoken ‘good luck!’ come from inside the car. “Thanks, Mikey.”

“Good luck, Cale,” Scott said and the two embraced on more time before Scott got back into the car and watched Caleb the entire way up to the front door. He almost smiled when his focus was broken by the innocent confusion in Michael’s voice.

“Why’s he so scared of his parents?”  
_

Caleb walked up the stone steps with heavy feet and shaky legs. His stomach was twisted into painful knots and when he knocked on the door he thought he would throw up. He could hear footsteps as whoever was inside approached the door and Caleb dropped his bags at his feet. He straightened his shirt and smoothed his hair out. Afraid he had done poorly shaving that morning, he had been very upset, he scrubbed a hand over his face to check for missed spots but found none. The door opened just as he dropped his hands back to his side.

He looked down, and standing a few inches below him was his mother. She looked at him with such bewildered shock that Caleb didn’t know if she would faint. He held his arms out, ready to catch her if he needed but she stayed rooted to the ground. They looked at each other a few more moments and Caleb let out a breath and forced a small smile.

“Hi mom,” he said softly and her face cracked. Her bottom lip trembled and her eyes flooded. She stepped over the threshold and threw her smaller body into his, wrapping her arms around him and squeezing him tight. Caleb took a moment to register what was happening before he wrapped his arms around his mother’s waist and lowered his head to hers. He rested his cheek on top of her head and held her while she sobbed against his chest.

“Oh Caleb,” she said and squeezed him tighter. “I missed my boy so much.”

She rocked them back and forth and Caleb felt a large smile cover his face. His face eventually came around the corner to see why his wife was sobbing and smiled and nodded at his son.

“Bring the boy inside, honey,” he said and his mother nodded and pulled away.

“Come inside, Caleb,” she told him and he picked up his bags and turned to look at the car still on the street. He gave them a thumbs up and the car pulled away. He brought his bags into the house and left them by the front door. His mother was hugging him again the moment the door was shut.

“We were so frightened for you, Caleb,” she sniffled. “Being out in the city.”

“I was with a friend upstate,” he said while his mother kissed his cheeks.

“Go put your things in your room, Caleb,” she said and he realized with every statement she spoke she used his name. A part of him believed she missed saying it. “I will make your favorite meal for dinner.”

“Mom, you don’t have to do that,” he said but she shushed him along as she wiped her eyes.

“Go on Caleb,” she said and she turned and scurried into the kitchen. His father approached him and gave him a big bear hug and smiled at him.

“She missed you,” he said and Caleb nodded. He slapped him on the shoulder and they both nodded at each other, unsure of what to say. Finally, Caleb turned and got his bags and ascended the stairs. When he opened the door to his old bedroom he expected to see it being used as a storage unit but instead what he saw nearly brought tears to his eyes. Everything was the same as the night he left, only slightly cleaner. His bed had been made but there was a little wrinkle where he used to sleep and Caleb moved to inspect it. It was a small form and Caleb could almost see his mother sneaking in here when she was alone and laying on his bed. Perhaps she really did miss him.

He sat down and let himself be happy for a more minutes. It felt good being back home, to have received such a warm and unexpected reception was amazing. But there was still an aching pain in his chest and he felt tears were constantly only a moment a way. He rested his head on his pillow and lifted up his feet to lie on the bed. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. The room smelled like him, like his family, but he missed the smell of Solovyov. His deep, musky sent, mixed with coffee and cologne. He missed lowering his face to his and smelling the clean soapy smell on his chin and jaw. It was upsetting, knowing that he would never smell that again.

He rolled onto his side trying to imagine Solovyov was laying there next to him staring back. As happy as he was at the reception from his parents, and there would definitely be a lot of talking, things weren’t over yet, he wished that he could be back at the safe house in bed with his Russian. He wanted to be wrapped in the strong, long arms of his ex-employer. Staring at the empty space next to him only seemed to increase his loneliness and he rolled over to look at the ceiling. He blinked back tears as the smell of his mother’s pot-roast came up from the kitchen below his bed.

It had always been his favorite. When he was a boy he would eat pot-roast every night if he could and the days his mother made it was more exciting than Christmas.

He jumped off the bed. He should go downstairs; they still had a lot to talk about. He sighed.

He would kill for some Russian food.  
_  
Two Weeks Later

Solovyov sat at his desk, his suit jacket hanging around his chair and the first button of his vest shirt. He had been staring at the computer screen and chewing on his thumb nail for the past twenty minutes. He was trying to work out a shipping route for the next shipment of cocaine coming in but his mind wouldn’t focus. Nothing came together and his thoughts were completely scattered. His mind kept slipping back to Caleb. The look on Caleb’s face when they last spoke had haunted him since he left the safe house.

He had quickly gotten back to New York, brought in a new shipment of guns, and made sure they went where they were supposed to go. Petrov then, after the mess that had been amassed in his absence had been cleaned up, kept Solovyov doing mainly office work, looking over finances, managing more clubs and keeping Slatkin’s men AND the Italians out of their territory. He did most of it robotically. It wasn’t all brain surgery and he in no way would call what he was doing difficult. Now that he was in better physical shape Petrov was giving him more difficult tasks. He had been sitting at his home desk for nearly four hours doing absolutely nothing. He flicked his pen on his paperwork, he typed and deleted incomprehensible letters and even unloaded, cleaned and reloaded his gun twice.

When Solovyov looked at the clock it was nearly noon and he pushed himself away from his desk and ventured into his kitchen. Not in the mood to cook anything he poured himself a bowl of cereal and his umpteenth cup of coffee. He stood at the island chewing slowly and looked around his house. The books were barely touched, nothing was scattered or left out and the icy blue walls lay bare and empty. He for the first time in his life, since leaving his home village which, despite how poorly he may speak about it in public, he loved and missed, he felt lonely. His house wasn’t a home. It was a museum. It was unlived in, unwelcoming and unloved. He never felt any warmth when returning to the house and the only time he had any sense of happiness in his house was when Caleb was in it.

He shook his head and threw the bowl into the sink, not stopping when he heard the ceramic bowl shatter against the black granite. He took his coffee cup with him and sat back at his desk, trying to figure out what was the smartest, safest and most efficient way to make the transfer of cocaine. Petrov needed it by the end of the day. He pursed his lips as he looked at the screen and then the map sprawled out on his desk. When his mind remained blank he groaned, and lowered his head to the hard, mahogany wood.

He could not, would not, go to Petrov tonight with nothing, but this job should have taken only a few minutes, an hour at the most. Instead he had been working half a day and finished absolutely nothing. He was still staring at a blank screen and there was not one mark inked into the map on his desk. Believe it or not even the route through the city would be dangerous. Between the cops, the Italians, who were staying out of the war so far but no one really trusted, and Slatkin himself, every road was under scrutiny.

He stood up from his desk again and poured himself a glass of whisky. He hated whisky but vodka was a drink saved for when the job was done. When he could relax. Now was not the time. With his glass he went to the far side wall and opened the drawers revealing a small T.V inside. He flicked it on and flipped between the news stories. He stayed on the local channels which focused 100% of their coverage on the war. He flicked the T.V off when a story of a horse jockey found murdered in the Hudson River came up. He was sure it was Petrov’s doing. Slatkin had no interest in the races.

He shut the T.V off and downed the small glass of whisky. He winced and put the glass back at his mini bar. When he sat back down he hoped to look at the map in a different way bit things were the same; cloudy and detached. He let out a small yell of frustration and threw his pen violently against the wall. It bounced off and flung onto the floor a few feet away.

He stared at a long time before finally getting back up and going back to work. He was in for a long day.  
_

The papers were scattered over his desk in such a horrific state of disorder that Solovyov scarcely knew where to start. He had never been so grossly disorganized and out of order. He had his whole report finished last night and instead of putting it together in his briefcase, after making the multiple copies that Petrov would surely be expecting, he decided to retire to his bedroom with a bottle of vodka and fell into bed completely dressed. Now at eleven in the morning, having woken up only fifteen minutes ago, he had to find the report in the sea of papers that had overtaken his desk before his twelve o’clock meeting with his boss. He had an indescribable aching behind his eyes that extended with a constant, throbbing pain into his forehead, the pain then radiated down the back of his skull and into his stiff neck and shoulders.

When he found the last page of his report at nearly quarter to eleven he exited his house swiftly. He didn’t register the scorching heat that he was greeted with and instead approached his driver with a look that sent him retreating into the car. Solovyov got himself into the back and struggled to organize his work and put it into his briefcase. His driver glanced at him hesitantly but made sure to keep quiet.

“Can’t you drive this car any faster?” He snapped in Russian. The driver looked at his speedometer anxiously. He was already driving ten over and even that was dangerous at this time. The police took any advantage to pull anyone over in hopes of finding a Russian to arrest. Many Russian immigrants had been unfairly targeted by the police in their desperate attempt to keep the city safe. The smallest charge and they would bring a person in. However, in fear of arousing Mr. Solovyov’s infamous anger he eased his foot down on the gas speeding up another ten miles an hour. The Russian was either pleased or had forgotten because he kept his head down on the papers.

They were within fifteen minutes of the safe house that Petrov was staying in when flashing blue lights reflecting in the rearview mirror caught the driver’s eyes. When he began to slow and pull to the side Solovyov’s head snapped up. He hadn’t even noticed the sirens.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Police sir,” the driver said anxiously. Solovyov looked behind them and clenched his jaw. A police officer got out of the car and slowly walked toward the car, his hand resting on the gun at his hip. Solovyov’s diver unrolled the window and waited.

“Do you know how fast you were going today, sir?” The policeman asked. He was on edge, mainly because he had no partner to back him up. With all the violence and all the police deaths, many cops were out potrolling the streets on their own.

“I do not, sir,” the driver replied. The cop’s eyebrows shot up at the sound of his accent.

“Where you from?” He asked casually but with an air of suspicion and condescension.

“Staten Island,” he replied flippantly and the cop’s lips pressed together. Solovyov watched him, knowing it was only a matter of time before attention was brought to him. The cop, intently focusing on the no name driver, did not hear or see Solovyov rolling down his own window.

“Step out of the car,” the policeman said and the driver paused. He didn’t have to wait long. Solovyov raised his hand only inches from the cops back and pulled his finger twice. 

Two quick shots went through and stuck into the bullet proof vest on the other side. The cop hit the ground with a painful thud and Solovyov turned again. When he first turned he had checked to be sure that the policeman did not have a partner and on further examination he had been right.

“Drive,” Solovyov said. “Drop me off three blocks away from the safe house. The media loves dead cops.”

The car pulled ahead and did as he was ordered. When Solovyov got out be grabbed his briefcase and slammed the door behind him. He could already hear the sirens and three cop cars rushed passed him as he walked along the abandoned street. He watched them go passed but felt his head pulse painfully when the brake lights lit up and slowed to a crawl. He didn’t break his stride but the cop exited his vehicle, along with a partner this time, as the Russian walked by.

“Can I help you?” he asked and a gun was drawn on him. His hand immediately raised and he looked between the two. “Is there problem?”

“What are you doing down here, friend?”

Friend? Where was this guy from?

“Visiting a friend,” Solovyov replied. “Is that a problem?”

“Of course not. But a Russian, visiting a friend five blocks away from where a cop was just killed doesn’t sit too well with me.”

“A cop? Oh, what dreadful state of affairs,” Solovyov said and the cop with his gun still on his hip grabbed him roughly by the arms and Solovyov found his face quickly pressed against the hard brick of a building. His briefcase fell to the ground by his feet and the hand on his head pressed him hard against the wall. “You have no cause for this.”

“Oh shut up,” the cop said and Solovyov felt his anger rising but he forced it down. His day could not get any worse. Hands were forced into his pockets and his legs were patted down. The gun, which usually sat snuggly between his waist band and his back was now sitting in the back of his town car. As forgetful and out of sorts as he had been recently he did have to good sense to leave the murder weapon behind. When the policeman found nothing he felt the pressure leave him and he turned around. He straightened his suit jacket curtly and shot them both a dirty look.

“Are you done harassing hardworking citizens?” he asked knowing full well he was in the U.S on a visa and did not have full citizenship yet.

“Let’s bring him in, Briggs. It’s too big a coincidence.”

“Alright. Turn around sir, and I am going to need your name,” Briggs said.

“You do this you will be very sorry,” Solovyov warned by he was forced to turn around he felt handcuffs placed around his wrists. His briefcase was thrown into the back of the cop car with him and he let out deep, even breaths trying to calm himself. “This is completely unconstitutional. You’ll be sorry. My lawyers have lawyers.”

“What do you know about the constitution you stupid Ruski.”

“I’m not Russian. I am from the Ukraine,” he lied. They all fell silent and Solovyov stared out the window until they got to the police station. He felt ill at ease as he rode along in the cop car. Cop cars were hot targets in the city. He actually felt relaxed as he was taken out of the car and brought into the police station.

“I would like to speak to Captain Reginald Baker please,” Solovyov announced loudly as they entered the precinct. He only had to wait five minutes before the police captain came out of his office and interrupted his intake.

“I am very sorry Mr. Solovyov for the inconvenience,” he said and he had a young police rookie uncuff him. The two shook hands before the Russian’s briefcase was returned to him by the captain. “Nothing has been touched…or read.”

“Thank you, Captain Baker. I hope that Officer Briggs and Officer O’Hara are punished appropriately for their horrible attack on the justice system of this nation,” he said and the Captain assured him they would. Solovyov would have to remember to give Baker a bonus at the end of the month, buy him a car or something. He then left the police station and checked his watch. It was nearly one thirty now and he pulled out his phone from his pocket. The phone rang three times before he heard the other end connect.

“Da?”

“Come get me at the police station,” he ordered his driver.

“The police station –”

He hung up before the phone before the question could be asked and dialed another number. He waited for it to ring anxiously. When it finally did he was given no chance to speak or explain.

“You be here in ten minutes or I’ll put a bullet in your head,” Mr. Petrov said on the other end and the call disconnected abruptly. Solovyov shoved his phone back into his pocket and waited for his car staring down any policeman that walked passed him.  
_

The door was answered by a big man with pock marked cheeks. He stood in front of Solovyov a few moments in what he assumed was supposed to be an intimidating gesture but Solovyov was to agitated to be affected. He looked up at the burly man trying his best to keep from saying something smart.

“Let him in Nick,” came the angry voice of the mob boss inside. The big man moved to the side and Solovyov moved gracefully passed him. He entered the comfortably sized sitting room and waited for the invitation to sit down. It didn’t come. “Is there a reason you are two hours late?”

“I was taken to the police station sir,” he replied stiffly.

“Oh the police station? I wonder what for?” Petrov’s lips pressed together and his eyes glared angrily up at him. “For shooting a cop in broad daylight?” he threw the remote onto a nearby chair and stood. Solovyov’s attention was drawn to the T.V where the story was already breaking.

“The street was empty. No one saw me. The murder weapon is already in the east river, in pieces. They took me in because I had an accent.”

“I assume you were walking to the safe house because you couldn’t bring the car up.” Solovyov nodded at Petrov’s statement. “Had the cop not been killed you could have pulled right up. I would have my report and you would be doing something useful.”

“I have the report now,” Solovyov said. Petrov looked at him a few moments before turning to the others.

“Get out,” he said and everyone in the room stood and left. “Sit down Grigori.”

He motioned to the couch and the two sat down, facing each other. Solovyov opened the briefcase and took out the report. Petrov looked it over a few minutes before placing it back on the table and looking at Solovyov.

“I can have it rewritten by tomorrow,” Solovyov said and Petrov shook his head.

“It’s fine. I like you Grigori, we have common interests. You remind me of myself,” he said and Solovyov decided not to remind him that he was three years Petrov’s senior. If anything Petrov reminded Solovyov of himself. “but there’s something wrong. You aren’t yourself and I don’t like it. Whatever your problem is, get over it. Go up state for a day.   
Fuck that boy of yours I don’t care. But I want you back and ready for business by Tuesday.”

“Caleb and myself are no longer in communication with each other,” Solovyov said and lowered his eyes slightly before looking back at the Russian. He opened his mouth as if he had something else to say but nothing came to mind.

“I am sorry to hear that,” Petrov said. “May I ask why?”

“Our relationship just came to an end.”

Petrov leaned back on the couch, held his face up in his palm and smiled. “Got too close?”

“I got what I wanted from him,” Solovyov replied and Petrov nodded.

“Understandable. Some boys are only good for one thing, airheaded, shallow… pretty, but airheaded and shallow. I’ve had my share of those, before I met my Mischa of course. I thought that boy of yours, Caleb right, I thought he was the type of boy you held onto, I guess I was mistaken,” he stood and opened an armoire. Solovyov stiffened at the classification of Caleb as pretty, airheaded and shallow. Petrov returned to the couch with a glass of scotch for each of them. “As far as you saying you got what you wanted from him, I don’t think you did.”

Solovyov downed his glass in a single sip and put his glass down on the table. He pulled at the knot of his tie and leaned back into the soft cushions.

“I just spent a lot of my day working with him. I need to get back into my old schedule that’s all,” he said and the other man nodded slowly but looked skeptical.

“Of course,” he said before his face lit up and he slapped Solovyov on the knee. “Ah! I have something to show you.”

The younger Russian stood and went back to armoire. He pulled out a sleek dark mahogany box and returned to the couch with it. He opened it to reveal four big, fat Cuban cigars. Petrov laughed at the look on Solovyov’s face.

“I’m not going to ask you to smoke one. I know how you feel about them. Honestly I have been barely able to smoke cigarettes anymore with Michael pestering me about the smell. No, these aren’t for us. These are for Anthony Comaletti,” He said and raised them to his nose to smell. He held the box out to him. “Here, smell. Smell like cigars yes? Well, these are laced with Ricin.”

“Where did you –”

“Andrei, Yakov’s brother in law living in Russia is friends with some ex-KGB intelligence officers. They used to put the beans into the food of ambassadors from the west. He did me a favor and got it placed into the cigar’s. As small a dose as a few grains of salt can kill an adult male.” Petrov said and closed the box and placed it on the table. “Inhaling can also cause death, so I don’t think we should sample the find smell of Cuban cigar’s any longer.”

“Why do you want Antonio Comaletti’s son killed? Have they not been helping us?” Solovyov crossed his legs.

“Well, they have stayed neutral thus far. But those goomba guinea WOPs are not to be trusted. I want them mad at Slatkin. Give us a few well-armed men. What better way to do that than to have the Comaletti family’s future God Father to be poisoned by cigar’s that Slatkin was so generous to present him with?”

“Makes sense, but if they were to discover the poison used I don’t think they will believe that Slatkin would use a poison that the KGB were known to have used,” Solovyov said and Petrov shook his head.

“They won’t. The traces are minute. They’d need an FBI or CIA lab to find them,” Petrov said waving his hand.

“How do we get them to the Italian’s then? And make them think it was from Slatkin?” Solovyov asked.

“Well,” Petrov turned a slightly annoyed look toward Solovyov. “I was planning on using Caleb. But I guess that plan is blown out of the water.”

“Yes, Sir,” Solovyov’s jaw ticked at the mention of the name. Petrov snapped his fingers in thought and looked to the side.

“Ah, Alexander,” he said with a smile.

“Sir?”

“Your relation is not well known. He’s been pestering us both for a chance to show his worth. This is a perfect situation,” Petrov replied. Solovyov leaned forward slightly so he was sitting up straight.

“Sir, I was hoping Alexander would not become too involved in the…business.”

“He wants to be,” Petrov replied. “Let him.”

“Yes, sir.” Solovyov replied.

“Grigori,” Petrov said and leaned backwards. “I’m going to find a place for you. Some place good. When this is all over, you won’t be stuck in those clubs anymore.”

“Thank you very much Mr. Petrov.”

“Good, now go get your nephew,” he said and Solovyov rose. He turned to leave but Petrov stopped him at the door. “Give this to Michael for me.” Solovyov was handed a plane,   
blank, sealed envelope. He nodded and placed it into his pocket. He turned to leave but was once more stopped by Petrov’s retreating figure. He turned to see Petrov walking away down the hall. “Oh, and Grigori? You might want to comb your hair.”

_  
Solovyov got out of the car in driveway and shut the door.

“Don’t leave!” he called back to the driver who shut the car off in reply. He entered the house uninvited and checked the cuffs of his shirt anxiously. He was sure Caleb was still in the house and he in no way wanted to see him. He walked into the living room with heavy feet and found Scott and Michael playing video games. This was good. If Scott was here, then Caleb did not return to the city. Scott looked up from the screen but immediately looked away when he saw him standing there.

“Hey asshole. Sorry to see you didn’t die of infection,” Scott said and Michael looked horrified but Solovyov merely stayed silent. Scott kept on playing and said nothing.

“Where’s Caleb?” he found himself asking despite himself.

“None of your fucking business,” Scott said and Solovyov brought a hand to his neck before dropping it.

“Where is Alexander,” he decided to ask instead.

“I don’t know,” Scott said. “I’m not his keeper.”

Solovyov, with an overwhelming desire to hit the impertinent child, walked up the stairs to search for Alexander. He stopped at the room he knew Caleb was staying in and paused. He looked down the hall and when he saw no one gently knocked on the door. He waited but heard nothing inside. He knocked again and when silence was once again his answer he grabbed the handle and pushed. The door swung open slowly and he was greeted with an empty room and a made bed. There was absolutely no sign that anyone was living in the room and that was simply not Caleb. He looked around before sitting down on the bed with a deep sigh. Resting his elbows on his thighs he hung his head.

“He left,”

Solovyov’s head popped up and he saw Alexander leaning against the doorframe.

“Where did he go?” He asked curtly.

“His parent’s,” Alexander said and went to sit next to him.

“His parent’s kicked him out,” Solovyov said and Alexander shrugged.

“Took him back,” he said. “Please tell me you came here to take me back to the city. I can’t stand these faggots.”

“Alexander,” Solovyov snapped and shot him a stern look.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“I also don’t feel I need to remind you that one of those faggots is Iosef Petrov’s lover,” he said firmly.

“I understand,” Alexander said with a nod.

“I did come to get you, however. Petrov has a job for you,” he said. Alexander’s face lit up and he looked at his uncle.

“Really? What is it?” he asked and Solovyov stood.

“I will tell you about it on the ride back to the city,” he said. “Get your things and meet me outside.”

Alexander nodded and went to pack his things.  
_  
“Michael,” Solovyov said as he came down the stairs. The boy looked up from his video game whipping his dark hair to the side and stood.

“Yeah,” he said and Solovyov reached into his pocket. He pulled out the envelope Petrov had given him and handed it to the boy.

“From Petrov,” he said but Michael clearly already knew who it was from. He sat down on the couch next to Scott obviously excited. He pulled out a stack of hundred dollar bills and a hand written letter that he read with a growing smile on his face. Scott’s eyes widened and he grabbed the bills of the table and counted them multiple times. Solovyov watched patiently until Alexander came down the stairs. He watched the strange exchange of looks between his nephew and Scott with a small frown on his face. Scott looked like he was thoroughly disgusted with his nephew and Alexander in turn gave him a dark, almost warning look.

“Everything ok here?” he asked.

“Fine,” Alexander said. “Ready to get out of here?”

“Yes,” Solovyov said and exited the house with his nephew.


	24. Chapter Twenty Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OK, I am hopefully back to making regular updates. Let me know what you think! 
> 
> Enjoy!

Caleb woke with a violent start, his entire body covered with a sheen of sweat, his clothing soaked through. He peeled it off over his head, throwing it to the corner of the room with an aggravated huff before reaching for his ringing phone. He brought it to his ear, his breathing still heavy, and the nightmare running through his brain relentlessly against his will. He could still see Solovyov’s handsome face, the arrogant smirk. This most recent dream ended with Slatkin killing Solovyov. Others ended with Solovyov killing Caleb. 

“Yes?” he snapped into the phone. He had not checked the contacts when he answered and did not know who it was that had interrupted his sleep. He would rather wake up naturally, despite the terrible contents of his dreams. It was far less jarring and it took him longer to calm himself down when he was awoken unnaturally. His parents had taken to coming in at night to wake up, as he tended to call out and scream in his sleep. They asked multiple times who “Solovyov” was and why he would know a Russian name like that but Caleb dodged the questions. As long as he promised to get a wrap on his dreams, and consider going to a therapist in an attempt not to awake the whole household at night, they left him in peace. 

“Oh… sorry… is this a bad time?” Michael’s voice came on the other end before he began speaking to whoever he was with. “I told you I shouldn’t have called.” 

“No, no, Mikey, it’s fine, it’s fine,” he said and lay back on his pillow. A cool breeze came in through the window and cooled his hot skin. “What’s up?"

“Are you free?” he asked and Caleb leaned over to look at the clock. 

“Yeah, I have no plans.” 

“It’s my birthday,” Michael said, excitement in his voice. “Iosef is taking me out to lunch and Scott is coming. Can you come?” 

“Sure thing,” Caleb said, pressing his hand to his forehead. 

“Great! A car will be there to get you at noon. Bye!” 

Michael hung up before Caleb could ask where they were going and what type of clothing he should wear. He sighed and jumped into the shower, keeping the water on as cold as it could go. When he stepped out he dried himself and dressed in his best pair of tan pants, a nice polo shirt. It was passable for either formal or casual and Caleb assumed wherever they went would be in the middle anyway. Petrov would want a nice place, and Michael would no doubt rather go to a simple place where he would not stand out. 

He went downstairs and into the living room where he sat down with his brothers to catch the news before Michael’s car got there. He watched the news endlessly every day for any news he could get. After the civilian casualties were listed off the “criminal deaths” were then listed. He waited for Solovyov’s name every time and despite his anger at the Russian and the dull ache that was always settled in the center of his chest he was relieved every time he did not hear the Russian’s name. The nightmares, he thought, were a byproduct of all the news he watched. The more horrible stories he heard of people being shot down in broad daylight the more anxious he got.

The nightmares started after the news of a crime boss who was shot dead outside a McDonalds. The pictures he had seen of the car were disturbing enough but the news actually showed some of the police photos of the body still in the bullet riddled car. The body was slumped over, his face in the steering wheel, no life left in the body. One of the many bullet holes that riddled his body could be seen at his temple, slowly oozing with blood and brain matter. 

The worse the war got the more graphic the news was getting. Caleb was surprised by some of the images they were showing and he couldn’t think of a plausible explanation as to why they were being shown. Did they wish to get the public angry or frightened? Well, Caleb could attest that they already were. God forbid a child was flipping through the T.V channels and came across that.

He was beginning to understand why Michael didn’t watch the news. He had thought the kid was immature for his avoidance of the reality of the life he was living. He thought it was almost hypocritical. If you were willing to have sex with a man like Iosef Petrov you should be faced with the full extent of the man he kind of was. But that was before. It made sense now.

The news stories were upsetting and graphic and when you knew someone who was involved in such destruction first hand it was not only all the more disturbing but terrifying. Every time Michael heard about a Russian or Mobster being killed his mind probably went right to Petrov. Caleb knew his went right to Solovyov. And if he wasn’t the one hurt then he could have been the one to do it. Which one was more upsetting to Caleb he didn’t know.

There was an abrupt knock on the door and everyone in the living room watching the news jumped violently. Thomas and Joshua looked to each other as Caleb stood. Thomas came after him, grabbing him and trying to stop him from going to the door but Caleb shrugged him off. 

“What are you doing?” Thomas asked as Caleb grabbed the door handle. 

“Answering the door,” he replied simply but Thomas kept him from opening the door. He looked out the side window, pulling the curtains to the side. He shook his head and looked back at Caleb. 

“Look’s mafia. Don’t answer it,” he told him and Caleb rolled his eyes. 

“Jesus Christ, Thomas, we are not the targets of a mob hit,” he said and opened the door. 

“Caleb Reese?” the man asked in a New York accent. Caleb nodded. 

“That’s me. I’ll see you later Thomas,” he told him and stepped off the porch. Thomas grabbed onto him and Joshua walked into the foyer, curiosity on his face. 

“You can’t go out, Caleb,” Thomas told him. 

“I’m going to my friend’s birthday. I’ll be fine,” Caleb answered. “Now let me go.” 

“Mom is going to kill you if you leave,” Joshua called. “Especially with this shady looking character.” 

The man that had come to pick him up, dressed in a simple black suit and wearing thick black sunglasses, smiled and looked down at himself, clearly amused. 

“What’s your name?” Thomas asked the man. 

“Sid,” he answered simply. “Mr. Michael is expecting you sir.” 

Caleb nodded and walked toward the car. He waved at his brothers, telling them to go inside and not rat him out to their parents but he knew they would. When he got into the car he sighed. The driver got into the front seat and turned the car on, pulling off from the curb and moving into the city. 

“You couldn’t have tried to look a little less mob?” Caleb asked and the man looked up into the rearview mirror, his glasses still on. 

“Be thankful Mr. Petrov had the presence of mind to send a native New Yorker. Mr. Michael had a native Russian on his way,” he answered. “I was on my lunch break when I got a call from Mr. Petrov himself. Now that just about made my life, so thank you.” 

“You’re welcome,” Caleb answered. “Is your name really Sid?” 

“Sidorov,” he said with a grin. “Friends call me Sid though. I figured regardless of my accent or not, the name Sidorov might have flung up some red flags.” 

“No kidding.” 

Caleb leaned back and they fell into silence. When they arrived at the restaurant the driver left the car out front and walked in with him and spoke to the host on his behalf. The host looked over Caleb with some distaste when he was told he was here to see Mr. Petrov and Caleb was sure he did not believe him. 

“I’m here more for Michael,” Caleb said with a nervous smile and the host nodded. 

“Ah… yes that I believe,” he said and jerked his head to the side. Caleb followed him through the restaurant to the back corner. It was the nicest table in the restaurant and the first person he saw was Petrov. Seeing him in person, as opposed to the news, sent Caleb for a loop. Caleb had known Petrov would be present, but he had not really experienced the terror of that prospect until he was faced with him directly. Caleb had seen him in person only once before, and during this brief encounter he was too full of the adrenaline pumping through his veins to really feel the fear. 

Caleb was immediately struck by just how handsome he really was and secondly by how dangerous he was. It struck him that this man was directly responsible for countless deaths, that he was leading a criminal organization in the middle of a mob war, and that he was about to sit down and have lunch with him. He was greeted by first Michael with a warm hug, and then by Petrov himself, he hoped that his face did not reflect the fear he was feeling. The most powerful man in the entire state of New York, if not the entire east coast, was standing right before him, and Caleb had never felt so small and so insignificant before in his life. 

Petrov gripped his shoulders and placed to warm kisses to his cheeks, telling him how grateful he was that he could come out today. Caleb thanked him in return and sat down next to Scott. Scott looked like he had seen a ghost, and looked over at Petrov with wide frightened eyes and pasty white skin, something odd for the usually tan Italian boy. Caleb hoped he was not wearing his nerves on his face like Scott was. 

“I am so glad you could join us, Mr. Reese, especially since I have just learned Mischa did not deign to inform you of our little outing until this morning,” Petrov said and Caleb found himself hanging on each accented word. He saw Michael blush and look down at his plate before answering. 

“Well, there’s not much else to do with the city being off limits,” Caleb answered and then felt his own face turn red. He did not know if he should even mention what was happening in the city. If he was supposed to pretend that the Russian mafia even existed, but Petrov did not appear offended. 

“Understandable. I was planning on having a dinner upstate to avoid any unnecessary danger, but the Italian’s have the Bronx fairly well secured and allowed me to use one of their restaurants. Aside from its normal daily crime, the Bronx has been immune from spillover it seems,” Petrov replied. “Tell me Mr. Reese, what is the public saying about the recent conflict. Whose side do they appear to be on?” 

“Well, to be honest, sir, most people think the police should step back and let you all kill each other,” he replied. Petrov nodded. 

“Not me surely,” Petrov said touching his chest. “I am merely a businessman.” 

“Oh... yes… I didn’t mean… you… I just meant…” 

“He is teasing you,” Michael said, cutting off Caleb’s sputtering. He was nibbling on a bread stick. 

“Mischa tells me I am bad at making jokes. I played a little prank on Mr. Esposito earlier and I think I nearly sent him into cardiac arrest.” 

“It was very funny, sir,” Scott said, but Caleb thought he looked like he still might have a heart attack. 

“What happened?” Caleb asked, a smile budding on his face. Michael looked at Petrov, disapproval all over his face, but Petrov chuckled. 

“Mr. Esposito and Mischa arrived at the restaurant together just before me. I arrived and was introduced to our young friend here. He introduced himself as Scott Esposito. I might have made an off color joke about Italians and placed my gun on the table with what Mischa likes to call my ‘angry’ face. I think our friend here thought I truly meant to kill him.” 

“I don’t know why making someone think you are about to murder them is funny,” Michael said but the look on Scott’s face brought a smile to Caleb’s. 

“I hope you have nothing against the English,” Caleb said and Petrov shook his head. 

“None at all,” Petrov answered. He chuckled again and reached out, slapped Scott’s shoulder playfully. The touch seemed to drain all the remaining color from Scott’s face. “Tell me, Mr. Reese, you are a photographer yes?” 

The conversation turned to photography for the rest of the meal and though Caleb was sure Petrov had absolutely no interest in what Caleb was saying he was very convincing with his questions and thoughtful expression. Desert was just arriving at the table when Petrov’s phone rang and he answered it, cutting Michael off mid sentence, and bringing it to his ear. An almost predatory smile came to his lips when he heard the voice at the other end and he looked to Caleb, sending a chill down his spine. 

“Yes… yes you have my permission. Before you go, you would never guess who I am sitting across from right now…. No not him. Our young photographer… well, our old young photographer, Caleb Reese.” 

The smile on Petrov’s face expanded and he ignored the glare he was receiving from Michael. Caleb has a very strong suspicion that the reason Petrov was speaking in English was for his benefit. 

“Yes, we have decided to dine together. Would you like to speak to him Grigori?” 

Caleb felt like he had just been hit by a bus and he looked down at his plate. 

“Are you quite sure, he is right here,” Petrov said and then nodded. “If that is how you feel.” 

He hung up the phone and went right back to speaking about photography. It took a few moments for Caleb to begin speaking once again and he had tears at the corner of his eyes that he had to focus to keep from falling. Knowing that Solovyov had been on the other end of the phone, so close and yet so out of reach, sent knots in Caleb’s stomach. He was unable to touch any of his dessert and Petrov made sure it was wrapped up for him before he left. 

“Are you OK?” Michael asked as he gave Caleb a hug goodbye. 

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” Caleb forced a smile, but his eyes were red and glassy. 

“Look, I’m fine. I could care less about Solovyov so just drop it, OK?” he said and Michael fell silent, his lip trembling slightly. Caleb immediately felt guilty and sighed pulling Michael into another quick hug. 

“Look, I’m sorry. I’m a little shaken is all,” he told him pulling back. Michael nodded slowly. 

“He can be really mean sometimes,” Michael said, rubbing the back of his neck. “But he’s really not like that.” 

The way Michael said it made Caleb believe he did not even believe it himself. 

“Don’t worry about it, Mikey. I’m a big boy,” Caleb smiled at him. He hugged Scott before getting back into the car that would bring him home after the three had a short conversation in the foyer of the restaurant. The car ride was frightening, but once they were out of the city he relaxed into the car seat. His new driver did not speak a word of English and so the drive was quiet. Caleb did not really wish to speak to anyone anyway. It took all of his strength not to cry. Instead of going up to his room when he got home, where he knew he would break down were he alone, he went right into the living room to watch the news with his family. 

After receiving a tongue lashing from his parents who had come home early from work, they all settled down. He gave his dessert to Thomas and Joshua, who swallowed it down fast. He nearly fell over when, and might have were he not sitting, he saw Solovyov’s face come on screen exiting one of his clubs. His family gave him an odd look when he grabbed the remote and turned up the already high volume. He leaned in to hear the TV more clearly. 

“Mr. Solovyov! Mr. Solovyov! Do you have anything to say about the recent murders? What do you have to say about the murders?” 

“I have no knowledge of murder,” he said, looking down as he walked to the awaiting car. The reporters continued shouting to him. Caleb wondered why these reporters would risk their lives in such dangerous times to get a Russian basically saying “no comment.”

“The bodies were found behind your establishments! Were they Italian? Were they Russians?” 

“I am businessman. Dead bodies behind my club hurts business,” he said and opened his car door. “I know nothing.” 

“I bet he killed them himself,” Joshua said as an image of his car driving away was shown. Caleb swallowed hard. 

“Are you alright, Cub? You look sick,” Thomas said and Caleb nodded slowly. 

“I’m fine,” he said and stood. “I’m going to go lay down.” 

The moment he lay his head down on the pillow, the nightmares returned. 

()  
Petrov arrived at the upstate home after finishing his business in the city. He nodded to Scott as he entered the house, who did a double take from the couch. When he got to the bedroom he shared with Michael he tried to turn the handle to find it locked. He frowned and knocked, waiting nearly two minutes before knocking again. 

“Mischa, did you fall asleep?” he called. He heard the TV on in the room and movement, and frowned. He knocked louder. “Michael?” 

When he heard the sound of the bathroom door opening on the other end of the door he knocked again, assuming he might not have heard him. Again no one came to the other side of the door and his anger sparked. He banged on the door with his fist. 

“Michael, open the door.” 

Once again he was greeted with silence and heard the TV channel change. He turned and walked away, storming down the stairs and ignoring the terrified Scott. He went to his study and grabbed his keys from his desk. When he got back up to the bedroom he unlocked the door, swinging it open angrily. Michael did not look up from his spot on the bed and Petrov slammed the keys down on the dresser before coming to stand in front of him. Michael looked up at him and waited to be yelled at. 

“Yes?” Michael asked when Petrov remained silent, only staring down at him with icy blue eyes. 

“And why was the door locked?” 

“Because I am mad at you,” Michael replied. 

“For?” he asked and Michael looked down at his hands, his confidence leaving him now that Petrov was in the room with him. 

“Because of the way you acted today. It was embarrassing,” he mumbled. 

“Oh, I embarrassed you did I?” he asked and moved away removing his tie and suit jacket. “And how did I do that?” 

“By scaring Scott and taunting Caleb. You were acting mean.” 

“You know Michael, I sometimes think you have constructed an idea of me that is not completely based in reality,” Petrov said, taking his off and grabbing a t-shirt from the dresser. 

“I kill people and you think I should feel guilty about hurting someone’s feelings,” Petrov answered. 

“I want you to leave,” Michael said sternly. 

“Not before I get what I came for,” Petrov replied. Michael looked down at the floor. 

“I thought you came to spend time with me,” he mumbled and Petrov turned to look at him. He took in the sight of his hunched shoulders and went to sit next to him. “It’s good to know the only time you come to see me is when you want to get laid.” 

Petrov ran a hand through Michael’s thick head of hair and looked down at him tenderly. He hooked a finger under his chin and had Michael look up at him. 

“I am very stressed, Mischa,” Petrov told him. “I was not expecting to come home tonight to find my bedroom door locked by my lover.”   
“I wanted to make a point,” Michael told him and Petrov smiled. 

“You made it,” he answered and kissed Michael. “Although, should I be worried? You seem awfully taken with Mr. Reese. My Mischa doesn’t have a little crush does he?”   
Michael turned beat red. 

“No, I don’t like him like that,” Michael assured him. 

“Are you sure? I might allow that. Perhaps Grigori and I can bond over a night of drinking vodka and watching our sweet faced boy’s pleasure each other.” 

“No,” Michael said firmly. 

“I wouldn’t let him fuck you, Mischa, but maybe a little kissing –”

Petrov was cut off when Michael stood angrily and the Russian yanked him back down onto the bed, pushing him onto his back. 

“I am joking,” Petrov told him. “You think I could ever stand to let another man touch you?” 

Michael shook his head but did not look convinced. His eyes were full of unspilled tears and Petrov smiled softly, kissing his lips. 

“Do you remember that girl who asked you out a few weeks ago?” Petrov asked and Michael blushed and nodded. “Remember how mad I was? Now, imagine how angry I would be if I thought you were touched by someone you were actually attracted to.” 

“I guess so,” Michael mumbled. “I just don’t like the idea that you’re OK with me touching someone else.” 

“I just told you I wasn’t,” Petrov said sternly. “Perhaps I am not so good at making jokes. I am sorry if I upset you.” 

Michael nodded. 

“Though I take offense at being told I was an embarrassment today,” Petrov said. 

“I said you were embarrassing, not an embarrassment,” Michael shot back. “There’s a difference.” 

“Either way, it must be maken up to me.” 

“Made,” Michael said and Petrov frowned. “You said maken… it’s made.” 

“Alright, no more speaking from you tonight,” Petrov said and Michael laughed. 

“Sorry.” 

“Now, let’s get these off. You have far too many clothes on.” 

Michael smiled and helped Petrov pull his shirt off over his head.


	25. Chapter Twenty Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I am a little anxious to get to Scott's and Alexander's story because I want to finish it, so some of these chapters will be only mildly edited and not rewritten. So if there is some difference in the quality of writing of the next few chapters I'm sorry, but some chapters I don't have it in me to rewrite. I'm a little drained. 
> 
> The chapters of Caleb and Grigori together though, the important chapters, will be rewritten. 
> 
> I would also like to add that some of my characters are rather bigoted, so if any of my characters make rude, racist, or prejudiced comments, it is not my views at all. I love everyone. They are my characters views not mine. 
> 
> Please leave your thoughts. They inspire me to get writing. I'm still a little off over my brother. Any help for my muse I can would be great. 
> 
> Thanks again to everyone who has stuck with me! You guys are amazing and I am so lucky to have all of your support. 
> 
> All my love!

Solovyov finished his report later in the day than he had planned. His brain seemed incapable of making any sort of valid connection that would allow him to make a competent sounding sentence, even in Russian. His English seemed to have been failing him in the last months, and many times he had been speaking with an English speaking colleague when he would suddenly revert into Russian. He simply could not put forth the thought necessary for the retrieval of English words. 

He sighed and printed the report, struggling to read it over for any mistakes. He could only think about the civilian casualty lists and the names he might discover there. When he first returned to the city he checked him the list nearly every half hour, hitting refresh constantly. When his work began to suffer and he received a long lecture from Petrov about his work ethic and the possibility of him finding himself in the east river if his work did not improve. Since then he had been checking the list in the morning and at night. But that did not mean that the list was not always on his mind.

Once he was done editing the report, which was riddled with mistakes, he made the copies, made sure they were all in his briefcase and placed his briefcase by the door. He pulled out his cell phone and called Petrov after he had a quick meal. He knew Petrov was off duty for the night but Solovyov needed to make sure that the reports could wait until tomorrow. His files were some of the most important to the brotherhood at the current mind. Their shipments of cocaine had decreased by nearly 10% since the war began while their shipments of fire arms and machine guns had increased 50%, and Solovyov was in charge of both. He knew that his boss would be with Michael for the day, Petrov had proudly told him it was his birthday, and Solovyov was worried that he would be upset with being disturbed. But while Petrov was always partly annoyed when he was bothered with things he did not deem important, he was furious when he was not bothered with things he did deem important. 

“Da?” he heard Petrov’s voice on the other end of the phone. He did not sound annoyed or angry and so Solovyov felt he could continue freely. In fact, he sounded rather amused.

“Mr. Petrov, I have the reports you have asked for finished. Do you want them brought to your club in queens? If so I could go to the docks afterward to oversee the newest shipment,” he said and waited.

“Yes…. Yes you hve my permission,” he heard Petrov say. He was about to hang up when Petrov spoke again. The amusement in his voice actually brought goosebumps to Solovyov’s skin. “Before you go, you would never guess who I am sitting across from right now.”

Solovyov thought for a moment. Petrov was speaking in English, which was odd, and so he tried to think of anyone who would be with Petrov, today of all days, that spoke English.

“O’Brian?” he asked.

“No, not him,” Petrov said. “Our young photographer, well, our old young photographer. Caleb Reese.”

Solovyov had never felt such a visceral physical reaction to a name before. His mouth opened and then closed again. He tried to wrap his mind around the right words but there was absolutely nothing in his brain. He didn’t know why Petrov would be with Caleb, he didn’t know why Petrov would feel it necessary to tell him that. On the other side he felt oddly relieved to know Caleb was safe. He had checked the civilian casualty list nearly obsessively. Not because he cared about the boy, he told himself, but because he was curious about whether he would be foolish enough to go into the city.

“Is he joining you on your birthday lunch with Michael?” he asked. He could feel his voice tighten. Like he was forcing it out of his throat and over his tongue which now felt oddly large and out of place in his mouth.

“Yes we have decided to dine together,” Petrov told him. Solovyov wondered what Caleb was doing right now, how he was reacting to the phone call. He was sure the boy was over their relationship by now. Had he found another man by now? The thought got Solovyov irrationally angry and he felt his face twist into a scowl. He’d shoot anyone who went near the boy. He had shot a good deal of people in the last few days; one more wouldn’t make a difference. He almost asked Petrov if he knew if Caleb was in a relationship but he realized how completely foolish he would sound.

“I trust you will all have a lovely time,” he forced out fiddled with the knot of his tie. It felt tighter than it had a few moments ago.

“Would you like to speak to him Grigori?” Petrov asked and Solovyov once again open his mouth before closing it. What would be gained from speaking to him again? How awkward would the situation be and what would be its purpose. He was finished with Caleb and he had no interest in seeing him again. That is what he continued to tell himself anyway. So why was he so tempted to say yes? His pause must have been a little too long for Petrov because the Russian continued. “He’s right here if you wish, Grigori.”

Solovyov tried to think of something to say, something that would make him seem detached with the situation or show his lack of interest.

“Are you quite sure? He is right here,” Petrov offered again and Solovyov felt his throat constrict. “Well, if that’s how you feel.” 

Solovyov heard the phone disconnect. Solovyov slowly brought the phone from his ear and put it in his pocket. When he was able to calm his thoughts down he grabbed his briefcase and headed outside. Already outside was the black Lincoln Navigator he had requested for his drive through the city. Things were getting pretty dicey and he felt safer in a larger car. He dropped off the reports with Yakov at Petrov’s favorite club before heading off to a warehouse. When he arrived he was greeted by Pavel, an associate and friend of his whose obsession with guns rivaled Solovyov’s obsession with knives.

“Hello, Grisha,” he said and the two shook hands.

“Pasha,” he said. “What do you have for me?”

“Mmm, let me show you,” he said and led him into the warehouse. He brought him over to a crate and he opened with a crowbar. A few different men were moving around, lifting up crates and assembling guns and placing them on tables to be tallied. “Firstly, let me show you this.”

He pulled out a new Colt Double Eagle Pistol and held it out to Solovyov. He took the gun and looked at it disdainfully.

“I don’t like Colts,” Solovyov said as he looked at it.

“I know, but I do. So, I had this gun here, right,” he pointed at the barrel. “Now, I’m fucking this real cute girl from Brooklyn,” Solovyov rolled his eyes and handed the gun back to Pavel. “She’s loving it. So, she’s crying out and moaning, ‘oh Pasha, Oh pasha!’ I slip this baby between her lips right. She freaks out but I tell her to relax right. She blows my gun, while I’m fucking her brains out. Fuck, I never came so hard.” 

He laughed and placed the gun back in the case. 

“I’m still seeing her you know.”

“You? With one girl? I don’t believe it,” Solovyov said with a half-smile.

“Yeah, not many girls will put up with a fetish like that, let alone get off on it. She’s a cutie too,” Pavel said.

“There’s something wrong with you,” Solovyov told him and Pavel looked away from the guns to Solovyov.

“And is what I do with guns any worse than what you do to boys with your knives?” He asked and Solovyov shot him a dark look. Pavel stroked the gun lovingly. “I love Colts.”

“I dislike the recoil,” Solovyov said.

“Bull Shit!” Pavel yelled and a few men turned to look at them. “You don’t like that they’re American.”

“I like Russian guns,” Solovyov said and Pavel shut the gun crate.

“And yet your gun of choice is a Baretta and a Glock. Last time I checked Italy and Austria weren’t a part of Russia.”

“Do you have what I came for?” Solovyov asked shortly and Pavel nodded.

“Rifles and Machine guns,” Pavel said and lead him farther into the warehouse. Solovyov looked over the men loading and unloading the crates as he went but his mind kept finding its way back to Caleb. The phone call kept forcing its way to the front of his mind and he could think of nothing else but the blond boy with the grey-blue eyes. Pavel’s little story had sent thoughts into his mind that he had hoped he had buried. He had come close to playing with his knives with Caleb but never got to fully immerse the boy. He wondered how the boy would react. Solovyov would never actually use the knives on him. He was not interested in blood play or anything of the sort, but the feeling of power one got when you held someone down with a knife to their throat. It was an incredibly arousing experience to have someone at your mercy and to have them enjoy it. Caleb would have enjoyed it. He was sure of that.

“Now before you say anything, it’s not Russian,” Pavel said and tore him from his thoughts. “It’s Israeli, but this is a monster.” Pavel reached into the crate and pulled out a beautiful black assault rifle. “Tavor tar-21, 720mm long, barrel length is 460 mm, 3.27 kg when unloaded,” to demonstrate he lifted the gun up and down in his hands.  
“Rounds per minute?” Solovyov asked and took the gun from Pavel. He held it in his arms and brought it up as if to fire. It felt good in his arms and looked to be top of the line.  
“700 to 900.” Pavel said and smiled as Solovyov’s eye brows raised and he lowered the gun. “Designed by the Israeli military.” Pavel poked the gun with a finger as he spoke. “They can make guns, man.”

“Well you’d hope,” Solovyov said and handed the gun back. “What with half the world trying to kill them.”

“I have more like that one, if you would like to see my Russian guns-“

“I’m not interested in the rifles. It’s the machine guns I need to check.” Solovyov said and tried to get the image of Caleb’s naked body out of his head. He had been doing so well for nearly two months.

“I have the correct number of Uzi’s and Micro Uzi’s. I don’t think you want to see those?” Solovyov shook his head. “Alright, here we go.”

About two hours later and Solovyov had been showed all the guns the two left the ware house by the back entrance.

“I have something for you, Grisha. I spoke to Mr. Petrov the other day, he said you were not doing well,” he said and opened the trunk to his car. “Boy troubles?”

“Pasha-“

“I don’t want a speech,” Solovyov said and Pavel took a black leather case out of his car. He opened the case and Solovyov smiled. Inside was a beautiful, six inch blade, ending with a rich, polished wood handle and gold engraving. “Now that’s not to be used. That’s a collectable.”

“Thank you Pasha,” Solovyov said and the two embraced.

“Would you like to come back to my place? Have a drink?” Pavel asked but Grigori declined.

“My head is aching. I think I am going to go to bed,” he replied and Pavel looked at his watch. He decided against informing Solovyov it was only six thirty.

()()

Solovyov got back to his house and immediately he went to his cabinet. He grabbed the half empty vodka bottle and went back to his bedroom. He once again fell into bed fully dressed; only taking the time to yank off his tie. He dumped the vodka to the back of his throat and swallowed hard. He wasn’t sure how long he had been drinking or when he arrived at his club but Caleb was in his office waiting for him. He approached the boy slowly and Caleb slid off his desk and wrapped his arms around Solovyov’s middle.

Their lips met and Solovyov pulled him in closer. He felt an overwhelming need to be close to the boy and he grabbed the back of his blonde head. Their faces pressed together and the Russian’s straight, slightly, only slightly large nose mashed with Caleb’s. When Solovyov bit down on Caleb’s lips the boy began to frantically pull at his suit coat and push it off his shoulders. The jacket fell to the floor carelessly and Solovyov walked forward, pressing Caleb against the desk. Their lips didn’t part as Caleb unbuttoned the Russian’s shirt and slipped his tie from his neck. The Russian pulled on his hair, yanking Caleb’s head back and looked down at him for a moment. His bright eyes stared back hotly and Solovyov pushed him again, sending him flying onto the desk.

Caleb whipped his shirt over his head in order to reveal his tight, lean body. Solovyov pressed down on the bare, smooth chest and positioned himself between the younger man’s jean clad legs. Their growing members grinded against each other and a small, breathy moan left the boy’s mouth. Solovyov discarded his shirt and let it fall onto his jacket. Caleb’s hand’s found Solovyov’s abdomen when the Russian leaned back over him. Their chests touched each other’s as they kissed and pressed their erections together.  
“I love your cock, Grigori,” Caleb breathed against his lips. “Please, give it to me.”

“I love how you beg,” Solovyov replied and brought a hand to their cocks. He gripped Caleb’s through the tight jeans and listened to his moan. “Aren’t you going to fuck me?” Caleb whined and thrust his hips upwards.

“Only if you ask nicely,” Solovyov said and petted his hair.

“Please, Grigori,” he breathed. “Pozhaluista.” Solovyov lowered his mouth to Caleb’s neck and sucked hard. He yanked at Caleb’s jeans as he assaulted his soft skin. He pulled his jeans over his hips and tossed them to the floor with the rest of their clothing. His boxer’s soon followed and the Russian’s large hand grabbed his throbbing member. Caleb moaned and tossed his head back. Solovyov jerked the boy’s cock hard and fast and watched the flush grow over his body. Caleb took his erection from Solovyov and the Russian freed his own throbbing erection. His cock stood out proudly and Caleb eyed him needily. Solovyov chose to not use a condom and positioned himself at Caleb’s opening. “Yes.” Caleb moaned as Solovyov pushed his cock into the tight opening at his mercy. He thrust himself to the hilt pressing his balls against the boy.

“How’s my cock feel, boy?” he asked and gripped Caleb’s jaw. The blonde parted his lips and the Russian slipped his fingers inside. His middle, ring and pointer finger pressed down on the wet hot tongue inside the boy’s mouth and watched him try to answer.

“Hmmguuuuhd,” he said and Solovyov pulled back before thrusting back in. His thrusts began slow and controlled and he watched the pleasure spread over Caleb’s face. His thrusts began to move faster and harder and Caleb’s moans matched respectively. Solovyov pulled his fingers form the boy’s mouth and replaced them with his tongue. He tried his best to taste all that he could from the inside of Caleb’s mouth. He pressed himself as close as he possibly could to the boy. He felt such a need to be close to him, to feel him and smell him.

When Caleb wrapped his legs around Solovyov’s waist the Russian screwed his eyes shut tight. His chest was going to explode with need and affection. He couldn’t get close enough, or touch enough or feel enough. It was a sensation that knocked him off balance and set a white hot explosion behind his eyes. He was overcome with it. It was almost as if he was slammed hard in the chest and fought for breath.

He breathed against Caleb’s face and the boy panted in response. Caleb extended his own tongue out and playfully licked the Russian’s lips, drawing the older man back into another kiss. Both clung to each other as if they were desperately afraid the other would simply disappear. Their kiss ended and Solovyov kissed the side of his mouth, and then his cheek and then his ear. They panted in each other’s ears as Solovyov thrust and Caleb’s hips bucked to match him.

“I love you, Grigori,” Caleb panted against his ear and Solovyov bit down on his ear lobe. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he breathed in his ear. “I love you too.”

He thrust as hard as he could, wanted to be as deep inside the body beneath him as he could. The feeling was more intense than anything he had ever felt. He’d never felt such a physical and emotional need to be close to someone. Perhaps this is what Caleb meant when he said sex was meant to be special.

He climaxed hard inside of Caleb and at the same time felt Caleb cream over his stomach. The Russian stayed close to him and placed a soft, tender kiss to his lips. When he pulled back he looked down at Caleb and they were lying in his bed. Caleb smiled at him and gently pushed at Solovyov’s chest. The Russian rolled over and let Caleb slip out from underneath him.

“What are you doing?” Solovyov asked sleepily. “Come back to bed.”

Caleb slipped on his pants and frowned at him.

“No,” he answered and Solovyov sat up.

“No?”

“I’m going home,” Caleb said.

“You don’t want to come to bed?”

“Why would I do that?” he asked and put his shirt on.

“We can…cuddle…” he said stumbling over the word.

“It was only sex, Grigori.” He said and put his shoes on. “I have to go.”

Solovyov watched him leave and felt like he had a hole in his chest.

()()()

Solovyov woke up to the sun shining in his eyes and his head throbbed painfully. It took him a moment to realize where he was and after the full force of his dream came rushing back to him he did his best to push it to the back of his mind. He had passed out before he even got under the covers and a now empty bottle of vodka lay next to him. When he finally composed himself he sat up. He would have to change his pants.


	26. Chapter Twenty Six

Solovyov stepped out of his car and approached the comfortable and modest house outside of the city. Alexander opened the door to greet him before he got to the steps and the two embraced. Alexander had been in a much better mood ever since he did his job for Petrov. The mob boss had been so pleased with his work that he gave him a few more odd jobs and he completed them discretely, efficiently and swiftly. Petrov had called Solovyov to inform him how pleased he was. Solovyov didn’t think he could have been more proud had Alexander been his own son. That feeling quickly dissipated when he received a phone call from his sister, the beautiful Natalya Aleksanrovna Korovina.

He spent nearly a half hour on the phone listening to her scream at him. How could he be so irresponsible? How could he let this happen? Didn’t he care about his nephew? Didn’t he care about his older sister’s wishes? None of these questions expected answers because she flew into them one after the other fluently. He waited, taking some significant verbal abuse before he was told he would be having dinner at her house next Saturday. Solovyov called Petrov and asked for the night off, not something he would normally do but at this point he was more frightened of his sister.

“Mama and Papa are inside,” Alexander said in Russian before adding proudly. “Petrov gave me another job.”

 

“I know. Why do you think I’m here?” he asked. Alexander grinned sheepishly and held the door open for his uncle.

“Mama? Uncle Grisha is here.” Alexander called and they were greeted with silence. “I think she’s in the living room.” Alexander lead Solovyov through the house. They found 

Natalya in the kitchen pulling the food out of the oven. Solovyov took off his jacket and laid it across a chair before sitting down.

“Alexander go to your room. I need to speak with your uncle alone, please,” she said and poured herself a glass of wine. Alexander nodded and walked out of the kitchen. At that moment Viktor, Natalya’s husband, walked into the kitchen and stood beside his wife. Solovyov stared at his sister and brother-in-law. Neither looked happy.  
()()()

The brunette looked back at him shyly and rubbed his foot on the steps. His hazel eyes sparkled in the porch lights and Caleb had to admit he was a very attractive guy. But he wasn’t the attractiveness he liked. Alan was the type of guy Caleb used to go after but now there was something lacking. Alan was cute, like he was. Caleb didn’t want cute. He wanted a tall, strong, bread shouldered man that could wrap him in his arms and keep him safe. He wanted protection and power, and strength. That was now missing. 

“I had a great time,” Alan said and smiled. Caleb smiled back and put his hands in the back pockets of his jeans. Alan moved closer placing his hands on Caleb’s hips and pulled him closer. He pressed his lips against Caleb’s and he stood frozen. A moment or so passed before Caleb began to return the kiss. He tentatively parted his lips and the kiss grew deeper. Caleb placed his hands on Alan’s waist as the two gently pulled apart. Alan smiled shyly at him and bit his lip. “Wanna come inside? I uh…. I got condoms.”

Caleb thought a moment. He had waited so long for someone special to come along before he had sex but look what that had got him. Perhaps sex without love was for the best. 

That way you couldn’t really get hurt. Besides everyone else had crazy no strings attached sex and they were perfectly happy. Caleb looked at Alan for a moment, trying to ignore any thoughts of Solovyov to creep into his head before he nodded. Alan took his hand again and led him inside. They walked up passed the living room and into what Caleb assumed with Alan’s bedroom. The darker haired boy kissed Caleb one more time and smiled against his lips. His hands slid under Caleb’s shirt and touched his bare skin.

“Top or bottom?” Alan asked and Caleb swallowed.

“I-I don’t care,” he replied. Truth was he did not want Alan to do anything Grigori had done. He didn’t want to think about the Russian nor feel anything the Russian wasn’t doing.

“Good, cause I like both,” Alan said and kissed Caleb again. The kiss continued and Caleb did his best to keep Solovyov out of his mind but with each touch, nip or lick he felt the Russian’s presence in his mind growing. He could only imagine how made Solovyov would be if he knew what he was doing. Or perhaps Solovyov wouldn’t care, maybe he had already moved on to the next boy. He would have to have, it had been months.

When Alan’s hand snaked around the back of Caleb’s neck and squeezed gently the image of Solovyov laying on his bed with three gunshot wounds in him and smiling up at him gently had forced its way to the front of his brain. Caleb felt the tears leave his eyes before he could pull away completely and he saw Alan wiping his face.   
“Was I that bad?” he joked and looked at Caleb. The slight tent in his jeans seemed to fall and Caleb went for the door, trying to conceal his sobs as he went. He ran down the stairs and Alan was right behind him.

“Look, Caleb if I did something I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed you so soon. I just –”

“No it wasn’t you. I’m sorry,” Caleb said and opened the front door. Alan followed him onto the front steps and shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Are you ok to drive home? You don’t look good.”

“I’m fine.” Caleb said and he opened his car door. Alan watched him drive away and Caleb knew that Alan was worried. He was a decent guy and Caleb had liked him but he could not bring himself to go all the way. Solovyov was still too big a part of him. When he was half way up state he pulled out his phone and dialed Michael’s number. It rang a number of times before a sleepy Michael answered the phone.

“Hello?”

“Michael, it’s Caleb,” he said trying to fight the sniffle in his voice.

“Caleb? It’s two thirty in the morning. What’s wrong?” he asked and Caleb could imagine him sitting up on the other end of the phone. There was a voice in the background and   
Caleb stayed silent a moment so Michael could answer. “It’s Caleb, go back to sleep. One second Caleb let me go into the bathroom.” 

Caleb waited for him to get into the bathroom. 

“Ok, shoot.”

“Can I come talk to you?” he asked and felt tears come back. He contorted his face to keep from crying.

“Yeah, of course. Want to come up tomorrow?” he asked and Caleb took a deep breath.

“I’m actually outside right now,” he said and Michael was quiet for a minute.

“Outside the house?”

“Yup,” he replied and waited to be told to go home. People couldn’t just show up at two in the morning without calling.

“Come to the door, I’ll let you in,” Michael said and he hung up the phone. Caleb got to the door just as Michael swung it open. He was in pj pants and no shirt, his hair a mess of   
curls from sleep. “Wanna talk on the couch?”

Caleb nodded. They sat down next to each other and Caleb was silent a minute. He opened his mouth to speak but there was a voice behind him. Caleb jumped but Michael just turned around.

“Mishka. Come back to bed. I am lonely.” Iosef stood at the foot of the stair case in his own pj pants and a white shirt. He seemed so normal standing there in pjs, his hair ruffled and tired with sleep.

“I’ll be right up. Caleb needs to talk,” he said and Iosef turned to walk up stairs.

“I can’t believe you sleep with him,” Caleb said and Michael smiled softly before the smile dropped.

“What’s wrong?” Michael asked and Caleb curled his feet up from under him. He felt two fat tears drip from his eyes and looked down at his feet feeling pathetic.

“I miss Grigori,” he said and Michael nodded. His expression was empathetic and Caleb thought he really felt for him.

“I’ve told you what happened between me and Iosef right?”

“Iosef and I…” he corrected and lifted the corner of his mouth slightly when Michael shot him a look. “Yeah you did.”

“Well. In that case I was the one that left but we talked a lot about it afterward. Iosef was really angry with me, but he was sad too. You know, he still missed me even though I quote unquote betrayed him. It’s normal to miss someone you care about even if they did something wrong. You shouldn’t feel bad about yourself for that. I can tell you do,” Michael said and Caleb nodded.

“I thought he was special,” Caleb said softly. “I’m so stupid.”

“You’re not stupid Caleb. You were trusting. You felt something for him and so you trusted him. You just need to be a little bit more careful that’s all,” he said and put an arm around Caleb’s shoulders when he began to cry. “You want me to sleep in the guest room with you? It’d be like a slumber party.”

Michael’s wisdom followed by such a childish thing to say brought a laugh out of Caleb and the blonde hugged the younger boy, who seemed thrilled.

“Will Mr. Petrov be ok with that? I could use a cuddle,” Caleb joked as they continued to hug. Michael laughed and pulled back after another moment.

“Iosef doesn’t let me cuddle puppies let alone another guy,” he said. “but if I ask him he’ll let me stay with you.”

“No, you should go back up with Petrov. He’s lonely remember?” Caleb winked and Michael turned red. “I would like to talk more tomorrow though. It’s just too late.”

“Sounds good to me,” Michael said and stood. “Come on. You can have your old room.”

They walked up the stairs together, linking arms and walked down to Caleb’s old room. When they passed Iosef and Michael’s room the Russian mobster was leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed over his broad chest. He looked thoroughly annoyed but gave Caleb a curt nod.

“Privet, Caleb,” he said as the two passed. “Spokoĭnoĭ nochi,” 

“He said good night,” Michael said as they went into Caleb’s room. Michael sensed his apprehension. “He speaks in Russian when he is tired or annoyed. I don’t understand most of what he says, but little things, good night, hello, I love you, I know those things.”

“He’s not mad at me?” Caleb asked and looked over his shoulder.

“No you’d know if he was mad,” Michael said. “It’s too bad really, but I want to learn Russian. Iosef won’t let me.”

“He won’t?” Caleb asked as he tossed off his jeans and shirt. He’d sleep in his boxers for the night. Michael shook his head.

“See, I’m allowed in the room if he’s speaking Russian, cause I don’t know it. If I knew it, then I couldn’t be around as much. But it’s hard, when it’s being spoken around you twenty four seven, not to pick a few things up. Well good night.” Michael said after a moment of looking at Caleb in his boxers, a blush on his cheeks. Caleb nodded and Michael walked out of his room and back toward the awaiting, sleepy, Russian.

Caleb pulled back the covers and sighed. The last few hours had been emotionally draining. He hadn’t called Scott because he knew Scott would only bash Solovyov. Scott cared about him and so that was how he would show his support. Michael would listen and offer his best advice, plus, Michael understood what it was like to date a mobster. The two had something in common.

When he climbed into bed he inhaled and frowned. He could almost smell his cologne.  
()()

When Caleb went down stairs in the morning Petrov had gone and Michael and Scott were sitting at the kitchen table. Michael had told Scott that Caleb had just stopped by for a visit and Caleb was grateful. He didn’t have the energy to deal with a riled up Scott. When he sat down to eat Scott would not let the subject of Alexander drop. Alexander was this, Alexander was that, was all Scott could think of to say. Michael seemed as lost as Caleb and so he just let it go. He couldn’t deal with his own problems right now let alone Scott’s.

After Breakfast Scott decided to lay by the pool while Caleb took Michael out shopping. Caleb wanted to talk more to Michael one on one and it seemed the perfect opportunity.   
Also, it would allow him to show Michael you could be comfortable and fashionable. 

“What prompted the break down last night?” Michael asked when they got to a rack he liked. He had been skirting around the issue most of the day and so Caleb was slightly surprised by the bluntness.

“A cute guy tried to sleep with me,” Caleb said and looked at a t-shirt.

“Yeah, cause that always upsets me.” Michael said and held a shirt up to his body. Caleb shook his head and put the shirt back on the rack.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about him,” Caleb clarified and Michael nodded.

“Oh,”

“And you know what sucks. He’s such a fucking asshole. He took my –”

Caleb cut off when he realized how loud he was being and leaned in and whispered to Michael. “He takes my virginity and then he fucking dumps me. What a scum bag he is.”

“Sounds like he has commitment issues. I really don’t think it’s because he was playing with you. I mean when he was here after he got shot, he was tender with you. I think, and I might be wrong, but I think he started to care about you and it got him nervous. Iosef told me when he first realized he was having feelings for me it scared him, but he seemed to have dealt with it better.” Michael said and Caleb said nothing but held up a shirt.

“You’re gonna try this one on too,” he said and Michael groaned.

“I don’t like these,” he whined.

“You’ll like them. They are comfortable. Plain V-neck shirts. They’ll look hot on you. Trust me, Mr. Petrov will love them.”

“I like the circle cut,” Michael replied and Caleb looked at him.

“Crew neck?”

“Yeah.” Michael replied and touched his chest. “People might see how skinny I am.”

“You’re not a skeleton Michael. You’re a cute little twink,” Caleb said and patted his cheek playfully. Michael only looked confused.

“Twink?”

“Oh God,” Caleb said.  
()()()

When Caleb convinced Michael he didn’t look like a poor kid in rich kids clothing they drove back to the house. Caleb even made him put on one of his new shirts. When the two walked in Scott was nowhere in sight and the two sat down on the couch. Michael was saying for the millionth time that he wasn’t ‘supposed to wear’ those types of clothes when Petrov’s study door opened. Michael jumped up and fidgeted nervously as Petrov came out. He must have returned while they were out. Petrov stopped just outside the doorway and looked Michael over.

“Is that a new shirt?” he asked and Michael nodded.

“Do you like it?” Michael asked nervously and Caleb stood.

“I love it,” Petrov said and motioned for Michael to come closer. Michael smiled widely and hugged Petrov warmly. “Still my Mischa, but not in rags. You are too good for those clothes you have.” He eyed Caleb and leaned in closer to Michael’s ear but the blonde still managed to hear him say, “I am sorry. I thought you’d be out longer.”

Caleb did not get a chance to wonder what he meant because a man stepped out from behind Petrov. His head was down and he was clasping his briefcase but Caleb’s face went void of all color and he immediately who it was. He could see the perfectly combed auburn hair, the crisp blue suit. Solovyov noticed Michael first and smiled at the younger boy, but caught by the stricken expression on his face turned to look around the room. He blinked rapidly when he spotted Caleb. It took a moment for him to regain his composure.   
He buttoned his suit jacket and straightened his tie. Caleb looked down at the floor and tried to keep himself calm. The air was thick and heavy and even Petrov seemed affected by it. He gently pulled himself out of Michael’s arms and he looked between his colleague and the blonde. Caleb felt beads of sweat on his forehead and he forced out a laugh.

“I’m glad you like the shirt, sir,” he said to Petrov. “We got some more too.”

Petrov nodded. 

“I am sure I will like the rest. Thank you for helping Mischa.” 

There was another moment of silence. The moment was long and the air thick. Caleb nodded and bit his lip.

“Anyway. It was a nice visit. I should be going,” he said. Michael gave him a hug and asked him silently if he would be ok. Caleb nodded and extended his hand to Petrov. “It was nice to see you again, Mr. Petrov.”

The two shook his hands and Caleb let out a breath. Forcing all the courage he had to the surface he stuck out his hand to Solovyov. “And you Mr. Solovyov.” 

The Russian with auburn hair looked at the hand before slowly taking it. His hand was warm and large and Caleb instantly regretted touching him. He nearly yanked his hand away when he felt the larger hand squeeze his gently and he felt tears threaten to spill from his eyes. 

He turning to leave and reached the door quickly. He walked to his car with long purposeful strides, wanting nothing more than to get out of the room. He was half way to his car, having passed a driver standing by a lexis, when he heard his name being called from behind him.

“Caleb, slow down,” he heard Solovyov said but did not stop moving. “Goddamit Caleb.” He said and grabbed onto his forearm. He spun him around and shoved him against Caleb’s car. “I just want to talk to you.”

“I don’t want to talk to you,” Caleb said and tried to turn around and open his door. He had it partially open when the Russian reached around him and slammed it shut. He spun Caleb around and held him still. “Caleb –”

“Let me go,” Caleb said so calmly that Solovyov paused. Solovyov paused before he let Caleb go and took a few steps back. Caleb got into his car and drove away without glancing back at Solovyov. His hands were shaking violently as he pulled away and he had to park the car a few miles down the road. It took him nearly an hour to collect himself.


	27. Chapter Twenty Seven

Grigori Solovyov in a bad mood was one of the more frightening aspects of mob life for many lower level grunts, and after his run in with Caleb he was in a foul mood. The entire ride back to the club he played with his stiletto knife in the back seat, checking the sharpness with his finger tips and his fingernails. He was quite relieved when he got a phone call that one of Slatkin’s men had been captured and Petrov walked him tortured by Solovyov. A little torture might do what nothing else had done; get his mind off of Caleb. His mind had been plagued by the blond since they had parted and not even sex with handsome young men could get his mind off of him. He hoped that his only other pleasure beside sex could clear finally get his mind clear. 

He had picked up a boy leaving his club a few days ago, a cute twenty something blond that had a remarkable likeness to Caleb. He was lithe, handsome, and willing to please, and his innocent reminded him of Caleb. It was perhaps not the best choice of a lover, as it only brought Caleb to the forefront of his mind, but he was frightened he would be unable to grow aroused if he did not look like Caleb. The kissing had been lack luster, boring even, though Solovyov had reason to believe the young man was quite skilled. It was when the boy dropped to his knees and reached for his trousers that things took a bad turn. 

His hand rubbed over the front of Solovyov’s trousers, feeling his ample, semi-stiff member with a grin. He complimented his size as he pulled at his belt. Solovyov closed his eyes and tried to think of something arousing, but even as the boys tongue slid over the sensitive skin of his cock he could manage no more than half mast. The more time that went by the more his humiliation grew. He looked down and saw the frown on the young man’s face. His ego took a violent blow and he pushed the boy away from him. He stumbled onto his back and looked up fearfully sputtering over an apology. 

“Get out of my fucking house,” Solovyov had snapped at him. The boy continued to apologize as he went for the front door. Solovyov made sure his driver drove him home safely, but he could only imagine what this was going to do for his image. 

The fact that he was so wrapped up over Caleb bothered him, and he had not had sex since he and Caleb had been together. It was infinitely frustrating and he was horrified that he was so wrapped up. He was pining over the boy. It was one of the most ridiculous things he had ever gone through. He was horrified, absolutely horrified by it. When he had seen Caleb he had only wished to speak to him. His emotional reaction to seeing him again, and his physical reaction to other men, told Solovyov that perhaps he was not quite done with Caleb. He had certainly not expected outright rejection. He was at a loss, unsure how to proceed. It was most certainly a first. 

The men at the warehouse knew they had to tread carefully when he flung the car door open and slammed it shut. He walked through the rain, knocking the umbrella someone tried to hand him to the ground, and barged into the warehouse. He spotted Pavel sitting on a crate of guns, biting into a sub sandwich, swinging his legs. Others were scattered about, dressed in casual clothing and covered in tattoos. They all moved away from Solovyov and he was able to see a man tied securely to a chair, nose broken, swollen eyes, and slices on his face. Solovyov took the chair given to him without a word and situated it in front of the man. Pavel came toward him then with a special suitcase he kept at the warehouse and handed it to him. Just as he opened it, and the special array of knives were made visible, the captured man opened his eyes. The moment he saw the first glint of steel he closed his eyes again and began to cry. 

“What is your name?” Solovyov asked kindly. 

“Bartek Benkowski,” he wept.

“Where was Bartek taken from?” he asked in Russian. 

“He was driving a truck full of guns,” Pavel answered. 

“Are you Polish, Bartek?” he asked and the man nodded. “And you work for Slatkin?” 

He nodded again. 

“Where were you bringing guns?” he asked. 

“I will not tell,” he answered, lowering his head. 

“A lot of loyalty for truck driver,” Solovyov observed. 

“My Melina….” He cried. Solovyov nodded. 

“Tell me what you know and I will make sure she is provided for,” he said but the man shook his head. Solovyov might have been able to get him to cross over but he simply did not want to. He needed to relieve some of the stress he was feeling, and this was the best way to do it. “Alright then.” 

He reached for a long sharp blade and the man’s weeping increased. 

()

The woman on the computer screen had large, shapely breasts, a thin lean body, and a shaved, pink pussy. She was sprawled out on the bed, a strong man thrusting into her, loud moans leaving her lips. Alexander watched, his hand on his member, trying desperately to work himself up into an erection. Every time he would look over to the man he would feel himself perk to life, but he quickly looked toward the woman and his erection immediately left once again. He kept telling himself that were he really gay he would be disgusted by the woman, instead of simply indifference, but it was difficult to convince himself. There was no excitement, no arousal, but no revulsion, and he tried to hang on to that. 

It had not been an issue until Scott entered his life. Up until then he had never pursued girls, but he had never questions his sexuality. Now he did not know what to think. After returning to the city he had tried to hook up with a girl from the club. He was handsome, well built, and could speak Russian, things girls seemed to like. He need only sit down at the bar and wait. They came flocking to him. One girl in particular sat next to him, bought him a drink and sensually rubbed up and down his strong biceps, complimenting him on his strength. 

“I bet you’re great in bed,” she smiled and he only smiled, giving no indication he was a virgin. 

“I bet you are too,” he replied. 

“Say something in Russian,” she told him, playfully patting his arm. Her other hand went to his upper thigh, and though he felt a slight tingle form being touched, his body did nothing else. He said something in Russian and she nearly melted onto the floor. She bought him another drink, but this time he refused to let her pay. After purchasing the drinks and knocking them back he led her out to the front of the club and called a car. She asked him if he was mob when she saw the car, giggling when he smiled at her again, smugly this time. 

“You have such beautiful hair,” she told him as they got into the back of the car. With his head swimming with alcohol the ministrations she gave him in the back seat stirred his member, and when he closed his eyes and he focused only on the feeling he was able to get a full erection. When he got her back to his apartment, and he tried to focus on the girl he was with the erection failed him and he sent her away before he could embarrass himself. 

He groaned at the memory and shut his laptop. His limp member was beginning to get sore after an hour of useless stroking. Against his will his mind wandered over to Scott. He had never felt too superior before in his life than when Scott came in to ask him to drive them back. Alexander at promptly replied with a “fuck you” and went back to his book. Scott asked again and tried to convey the importance of him helping them out. Alexander would have brought them back regardless, he was not completely heartless, but he also knew Scott would do anything for Caleb and decided it was time to have some fun. 

Alexander knew something had happened between Caleb and his uncle when he saw his uncle leave that morning. He liked Caleb well enough, far more than Scott or Michael and he wasn’t as heartless as many thought he was. He would have helped Caleb, but Scott had been tormenting him for nearly a month at that point and he was out for blood. If his uncle had ever taught him anything, it was to take advantage of every opportunity as it presented itself. 

Earlier that very morning Scott had come up to him while he was making breakfast and stroked his cheek. In response to the tingling that ran over his skin Alexander turned and punched him hard in the rib cage. Scott had immediately doubled over and nearly fell to his knees. Had he not grabbed onto the counter top he would have hit the ground as he struggled for breath.

So when Scott was sent in to ask for his help Alexander thought it was finally his turn to fuck with Scott.   
Certainly no pun intended.

“Maybe if you ask nicely,” he had said when Scott persisted and Alexander watched Scott’s ears glow read. 

“Please,” Scott had gritted out and Alexander smiled.

“That doesn’t sound like you mean it,” Alexander said. “How about, ‘please Alexander, I’m begging you to help me. I need you.” 

The look on Scott’s face as he was made to say the words brought Alexander extreme pleasure. More pleasure than he probably should have felt. 

“Now,” he added afterward. “Say you’re sorry for being childish this summer.”

Alexander felt great the entire ride to and back from Caleb’s house. The moment he got back and he went into his room he realized that he had not felt good on an emotional level, but a sexual level.

Why make Scott say ‘I need you’? 

As Alexander recalled the pleasurable yet disturbing memory he realized his cock had grown completely hard and a moan had escaped his lips. With his free hand he punched his desk in anger but continued to stroke himself. He remembered the glances he would chance at Scott at the pool. He would lay out in his short, tight bathing suit, and slather himself in tanning lotion. The last time he sat by the pool Scott had asked him if he wanted to help rub in his tanning lotion. Alexander’s dark eyes had trailed over his rippled abs. The thoughts of his muscular but lean and tan body coated in tanning lotion sent one last jolt through him and he came into the towel he had at his feet. He leaned back and ran a hand through his hair.

“Fuck.”  
()

“Maybe I should have talked to him,” Caleb said to Scott and Michael over the phone His response was two voiced piled on top of the other, either giving a conflicting answer. He got a “fuck no” snapped by Scott and a “probably” mumbled by Michael.

“Solovovyovo is an asshole,” Scott said and Caleb smiled. He knew that Scott knew how to pronounce his name, but since the incident he had been doing everything he could to butcher the name. “He doesn’t deserve the time of day. His nephew is just fucking like him too. Arrogant, self-centered, self-denying little sack of –”

“He might have wanted to apologize,” Michael interrupted Scott, who had taken to rambling off about Alexander often lately. “I’m not saying forgive him. Just hear him out, give him a chance, and if you don’t like what he has to say then be done with him.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Caleb said and laid his head back on his pillow. He stared up at the ceiling, his insides churning, his throat tight. “I just don’t want to come across as desperate you know. I don’t want him to think he can walk all over me. What if he does take me back and I’m just a booty call again?”

“Blow him off Caleb. You can find someone better and safer than him. No man in the mafia would ever be able to love you.”

“That’s not true,” Michael snapped back with more force and anger than either thought him capable of. Scott, taken aback and slightly guilty, fell silent. 

“Michael, no one doubts Petrov loves you, but Solovyov isn’t Petrov. You can’t assume just because it worked out between the two of you that it is going to work out with us.” Caleb replied and bit his thumb nail. “I mean I gave him my virginity and he just tossed me aside after I told him what it meant to me.” 

“Iosef bought mine,” Michael shot back. “Just hear him out. That’s all I’m saying.”

“I disagree,” Scott added and Caleb bit his lip and stared up at the ceiling above him.

“Why does this have to be so fucking complicated?” He asked to which Michael replied, “Well, I think love generally is.”

()()

Caleb sat down at his desk the next day with a pen and paper. He decided a letter would be the best course of action. He didn’t want to call, he couldn’t bear hearing his voice right now, he couldn’t text something like this and he didn’t know his email. If he spoke on the phone he knew he would be overcome with emotion. He needed to think rationally and calmly when he reached out. He had to be in complete control of his emotions if this was going to work. Instead he thought a personal old fashioned letter would be best. He wanted to sit down and talk to Solovyov in a neutral place where neither had the upper hand. 

That was difficult seeing how half of NYC was under Petrov’s control and half under Slatkin’s. He also thought that no matter what Solovyov’s commanding presence would take his breath away no matter what. He was so powerful, physically, emotionally, and intellectually. It terrified Caleb. Plus with the war on their options were limited. A meeting would have to occur at a safe house of some sort, or a place out of the way, like Caleb’s house. He decided they could cross that bridge when they came to it and started the letter. It read:

“Dear Grigori, I am sorry for the way I acted at the house. I am sure I appeared childish but I was unprepared to see you again. I think it would be a good idea if the two of us met somewhere to talk. Just talk. I don’t really know why you ended our relationship and I think I have a right to know. If the only reason you want to see me again is strictly for more sex than please do not respond. I will wait patiently. I know you are very busy, especially right now, but after a month or so I will assume you are uninterested. –Caleb –”

He looked over the note for a long time before he put it in a blank envelope and sealed it. The next day he went into the city despite everything in him telling him not too. He drove to the club so filled with apprehension that he almost turned around twice. He definitely did not want to see Solovyov again, that would be far too humiliating. And most importantly he did not want to get shot. People were being killed just taking out their garbage or walking their dogs in the city. He was putting himself in a terrible position, but he needed to do this. He would not be at peace until he did. As he drove down the deserted streets he felt foolish. Driving into the city was one of the most dangerous things he had ever done in his entire life and he was doing it to contact a man that dumped him after tricking him out of his virginity, a man who probably only wanted more sex.

With this on his mind he got out of his car and ran up to the club entrance. Solovyov’s name was scribbled on the front of the envelope and Caleb made sure it was visible as he wedged it in the opening of the door. Once he was satisfied he quickly made his way back to his car and got safely inside. His heart was pounding as he slid back into his seat and he quickly started the ignition. His nerves were on edge due to the incredibly dangerous position he was in but also because of what he was doing. There was now a possibility that he would see Solovyov again. Perhaps he even wanted to try a relationship with Caleb and had rethought the whole casual sex thing.

Caleb knew this was reaching and all this would amount to was his heart being broken again. He would either get no response or one indicating that all the Russian was interested in was being a fuck buddy. Try as Caleb might after he had given up his virginity he could not turn to casual sex for pleasure or comfort. The thought of being with someone he did not love caused a small ache in his chest and each time he had been faced with the opportunity he had been forced by his own body to turn it down. Friends had tried telling him that he was a man it casual sex was normal, that because he was gay he did not need to conform to “hetero rules of relationships” but he wanted love. He could not shake that. 

Solovyov was still on his mind all the time and Caleb couldn’t move on. He tried desperately, going on a number of different dates since the last time he had been with Solovyov but nothing seemed to work. Seeing him again at the house had caused all those emotions he had been attempting to bury deep down inside of him came rushing back up and he finally felt like he was about to crack.

At the very least Caleb hoped this would bring closure. He hoped that if he got no response or if Solovyov did in fact contact him for no other purpose but sex that Caleb would know that he didn’t miss an opportunity to make things right. That was all he could hope for as he drove back to his house.  
()()

After the car pulled away from the club Anton stepped out from the alley way and exhaled a puff of smoke. He looked after the car until it turned the corner and out of sight before he took the few steps to the closed club entrance. He pulled out the white envelope that had been wedged between the heavy black doors. He smiled as he read the inscription scribbled over the front of the envelope, his cigarette in his yellow teeth. He looked over his shoulder and, shoving the envelope in his pocket, walked to the car waiting for him around the corner. As he slipped into the black BMW he reached into his pocket and handed the envelope to his boss and employer, Fryderyk Vaclav Slatkin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please Review! Let me know what you think!!!


	28. Chapter Twenty Eight

Caleb had approached the meeting place with more apprehension than excitement but he was still anxious to see Solovyov again. He was amazed at how quickly he had gotten back to him, but he felt better when he saw their meeting place would be somewhere open and populated. He would rather the meeting have been during the day, but Caleb understood that Solovyov would have a lot to do during the day.

He had expected a phone call but was instead answered with a hand written letter. Caleb was surprised at first by the uncharacteristic sloppiness of the writing and the informal attitude in the wording. It did not sound or feel like Solovyov to him but he ignored the red flags. He reasoned it away, believing that the stress of the gang war was wearing on his nerves and that was the reason for the hand writing and wording. 

The time of the meeting would be at nine PM at a little Italian restaurant in the Bronx. But as he got out of his car his stomach immediately sunk and he stopped moving toward the building. It was out of the way and the parking lot empty. The eerie silence that Caleb was met with caused the hair on the back of his neck to stand on end and he put his hand back on the handle of his car.

In the letter he said it would be rather busy and well lit. He cursed himself for even getting out of the car. He had just been so anxious he had not been thinking clearly. He looked around and saw absolutely no one. The restaurant was not something that Caleb could see Solovyov coming to. Solovyov had far too much class to even know this place existed. When he pulled up on the handle of his car he heard a quick movement behind him and his heart began to pound. He felt bile rise in his throat but it stayed down. No amount of adrenaline could save him however and what was pumping through his veins acted too slowly. Before he could get into the car there was a splitting pain in the back of his head and the sound of a crack. His knees gave out from the pain and he hit the ground, slamming against the door and falling to the ground. His cheek landed on the hard asphalt underneath him and the world went blurry.

“I think you killed him,” he heard an unfamiliar voice from the far end of a tunnel and a shoe jabbed into his ribs. He groaned loudly. Caleb was rolled over onto his back just as his eyes failed him and the world around him went black.  
()

When he awoke it felt as if he had simply blinked and found himself somewhere else. His head throbbed painfully and his blonde hair was stained and matted with his blood. On his cheek was a burning scrape that occurred when hitting the ground. His knees and ribs ached and his body screamed loudly. If it were not for the cold, hard concrete floor beneath him he would have fallen back asleep. It was preferable to the pain, but he knew that there were people in the room with him. He was at first met with disorientation and it was not quickly overcome. He did not quite understand what had happened and or where he was, but he knew none of it could be very good. He shivered, making his sore bones hurt even more. The floor he was on was cold and large doors seemed to be open near him, letting it the cold air. 

“Ah! He is awake,” Caleb heard and rolled onto his back, his eyes fluttering open. He looked up, his eyes struggling to adjust to the bright lights hanging above him. When his eyes focused he saw Slatkin standing over him, hands folded behind his back, smiling coolly. He looked over him, his eyebrows rising and put on a look of mock concern. 

“I am sorry for the over-zealousness. I am sure you would have come with my men had they simply asked. Yes?” 

Caleb did not answer but tried to sit up on shaky arms. Slatkin took a step back to watch him and shook his head at one of his goons, who stepped forward to stop Caleb form moving. 

“I am sorry for the invasion of privacy,” Slatkin told him and dropped the letter he had written Solovyov into his lap. “I was surprised, given our last interactions, not only that   
you were working for Solovyov but that you would show such a severe lack of judgment.” 

“I… I just…” 

“Do not try and find an explanation, Caleb. It would only insult my intelligence.” 

A man opened a nearby door and stuck his head in, saying something in Polish. Caleb waited, rubbed his head and looking around. Slatkin said something in reply and the man ducked back out. Slatkin smiled at him, his eyes twinkling. 

“Do not worry young Caleb. You will not go without your reunion,” Slatkin smiled. Caleb felt his stomach sink at the look in his eyes and the sourness of his smile. He looked toward the door and felt like throwing up at who he saw. 

Walking into the room in a black pinstripe Armani suit, neatly combed auburn hair, and a briefcase in his hand was Solovyov, stony faced but not particularly upset. For a horrifying moment Caleb believed that Solovyov had helped set him up and was going to let him be killed. That thought was discarded almost as fast as it was thought up when Solovyov’s eyes landed on him. 

He stopped walked and straightened his back. It looked like he had been struck by a bus. He looked at Caleb a moment, their eyes locking, before looking back to Slatkin. Caleb poured all the pleading, fear, and longing he could into his eyes, gazing at him intently. Solovyov’s jaw clenched. 

“Surprise!” Slatkin called and laughed. “I told you I would come up with a good way to prove your loyalties have truly changed.” 

“I see,” Solovyov replied and Caleb’s eyes, wide and wet, were still on Solovyov. “But was has boy have to with that?” 

“Well you are going to kill him,” Slatkin replied. 

“The briefcase filled with sensitive information about my former boss does not prove my loyalty?” Solovyov asked. He came further into the room, placing the briefcase on the ground. 

“Well it was either Caleb or Alexander. I thought this would be easier,” Slatkin replied. Caleb turned white but Solovyov by this time had recovered from his surprise and smiled coldly. 

“I am disinclined to kill Caleb based on personal feelings, not professional,” Solovyov said. He nudged Caleb’s leg with his foot and Caleb winced. “Killing someone of such little importance to the brotherhood is against my personal code of conduct.” 

“If he is of no importance and as you say your loyalty is truly to me, then kill him,” Slatkin said and pulled a gun out of his waist band and pointed it Caleb. “Or I will kill him and then kill you.” 

Solovyov smiled. 

“You will not kill me,” he replied. “Why do I care if you kill him? Kill him if you wish, but I will not.” 

Caleb felt his lower lip trembled and tears press at his eyes. Slatkin clearly had not suspected such defiance and looked at Solovyov a long moment, fury and rage on his face. 

“Viktor!” Slatkin yelled and a big goon came into the room. Slatkin jerked his head toward Caleb and for a horrifying moment he thought he was about to be killed. He even saw Solovyov’s body jump slightly and some surprised fear cross his face. Instead the man smiled, cackled, and grabbed a bat from the far side of the room.   
Another man came out of nowhere and grabbed Caleb. Caleb tried to fight but the man holding him was far too strong. His arm was propped up between two chairs at his wrist and elbow. 

“We will go arm by arm until you decide to put a bullet in his head,” Slatkin said. “When I say I want someone to kill someone, they better do it.” 

Caleb howled in pain as the bat came down on the middle of his forearm. He could hear the cracking of his bone and he was allowed to fall to the ground. 

“I am not squeamish,” Solovyov told him smugly. “A broken arm will hardly shake me.” 

“Would you ever dare say no to Petrov?” Slatkin snapped. 

“I did say no to Petrov and that is why I am here now,” Solovyov replied as they set up Caleb’s other arm. 

“I see fear in your eyes,” Slatkin taunted Solovyov. “Do you still feel for the boy?” 

Solovyov did not answer and caught Caleb’s eyes right before his second arm was broken. The sound was sickening and this arm was visibly worse than his other. The bone was just beneath the surface of the skin, indicating a clean break. As Caleb tried to bring his arms to his body one of Slatkin’s men reached down and grabbed his arm using as much force he could. Caleb cried out and jagged bone came tarring painfully out of Caleb’s skin. 

“This is barbaric,” Solovyov said calmly. “Do you always play with your kill?” 

Slatkin’s eyes smiled at him and he looked down at Caleb. They were positioning his leg up on the chair. 

“Viktor,” Slatkin said and the man with the bat looked up. “Make sure he’ll never walks again.” 

It took only a moment for the bullets to slam in Slatkin’s chest after he finished this sentence. Next Viktor went down so he could not swing once again at Caleb, and next the two goods holding Caleb down. It happened in a matter of seconds and Solovyov moved over to Caleb, making sure to keep an eye on the door. He had his gun raised as he knelt down in front of Caleb. 

“How did you manage this, hmm?” Solovyov asked. He squeezed off two more bullets as the last two at the warehouse came running into the room. He grabbed his cell phone and spoke in Russian briefly. 

“Can you walk?” 

“You son of a bitch,” Caleb breathed. “I hate you.” 

“No you don’t,” Solovyov replied and helped Caleb up to his feet. Caleb leaned against him, wincing and biting his tongue hard. His arm was bleeding and hung limply, while the other one was swollen and misshapen. Solovyov stopped for a moment to search the pockets of all the dead men, pulling out a few wallets. 

“You turned on, Petrov?” he breathed as they stepped outside. 

“Of course not,” Solovyov snapped. “Petrov told me to go to Slatkin.” 

A black car pulled up and Solovyov opened the door and pushed Caleb inside. Caleb leaned over on the seat, moaning in pain as the car began moving. 

“Did you get the codes?” the driver asked. 

“No,” Solovyov snapped and reached into the side pocket of the car, pulling out a small plastic box that one might think was a first aid kit. Instead it was filled with a syringe and a vile of morphine. Caleb leaned against the far side down, breathing hard and trying to ignore the terrible pain in his arms. Solovyov slid over to Caleb as he filled the syringe with the morphine.

“Which arm is worse, Caleb?” Solovyov asked softly. 

“My left,” Caleb said. “The one without the fucking bone sticking out of it.”

“Now is hardly the time for sarcasm,” Solovyov replied and gently moved Caleb’s left arm so he could look for a vein. He paused when Caleb winced and looked up at him. 

“Sorry,” Solovyov mumbled. “This will take the pain away.” 

“Give me a lot,” Caleb mumbled laying his head back. Solovyov nodded. 

“This would knock me out,” Solovyov told him as he pushed at the skin, searching for a good vein to use. “This will go right into your blood stream, Caleb. It’ll work pretty fast.” 

“Good,” Caleb replied and watched Solovyov put the needle into his arm. True to his word Caleb could feel the warmth creep up his arm and to the rest of his body. His pain   
slowly began to diminish to only a dull ache and the world blurred. 

“Grigori?” he asked softly. Solovyov looked u p at him and pressed his hand to his cheek. 

“Yes, it’s me Caleb,” Solovyov said, stroking his face with his thumb. Caleb tried to hold up his right arm but Solovyov stopped him. He did not want Caleb to make the break even worse. The bleeding was just now under control and he did not want it exacerbated. 

“Will I be able to take pictures now?” he asked and Solovyov couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh. He leaned forward and placed a kiss to Caleb’s forehead. 

“Yes, you will Caleb and when this is all over I am going to buy you a brand new camera,” he said softly. “And you will be able to take all the pictures you want.”

“You paying?” his voice sounded weak and a look of peace came over his face as the morphine began to do its job. 

“Yes, Caleb.”

“Then I want…a…a Sony Alpha …D…DSLR A900…with a lens…and...” he breathed heavily and tears leaked from his eyes. His bit down hard on his lip and he shuddered. Solovyov brushed a hand through his hair, noticing for the first time the blood matted in his hair. 

“Whatever you want Caleb,” Solovyov said and stroked his forehead. 

The ride to the safe house took only a half hour but Caleb was asleep when they arrived. Solovyov had his hand on Caleb’s chest most of the ride, making sure his breathing remained even. Solovyov took Caleb into his arms and carried him into the building, looking to make sure there was no one out on the streets. The driver got out with them, not only making sure he had his gun drawn in case they were approached, but opened the door for Solovyov. Once inside Solovyov carried him up the stairs and gently laid him on one of the beds. 

The first think he did was call Sergei, his most trusted doctor. Sergei at first refused to help when he heard it was not Solovyov who was injured, but he came when Solovyov insisted. 

Solovyov tucked Caleb under the covers and examined the large gash on the back of his head, a concerned frown settling on his face. He debated about whether or not he should touch his arms. He did not want to make them better, but he felt sick looking at the misshapen, uneven arms. He had seen far worse injuries, but seeing Caleb lying there, broken and bleeding made his stomach turn and his head ached. His mouth was dry and his throat painful. 

He was just reaching out to touch Caleb’s forehead when Sergei came hurrying into the room and he yanked his hand back, stepping away. The man was a few inches shorter than Solovyov with a lean build and short blonde hair. His blue eyes were as sharp as a hawk as he examined Caleb.

“How did this happen?” he asked while looking at Caleb’s mangled right arm. The blonde moaned in pain as Sergei moved the arm.

“You know not to ask those questions,” Solovyov said and Sergei nodded.

“It would no good with setting the arm anyway. Strangely enough I have more hope for his right arm. The left arm might heal oddly. Whoever did this didn’t want to give this a kid a chance to recover,” Sergei said and, after putting on gloves, swabbed around the open skin with an alcohol swab. He had used something similar to clean Solovyov’s gun wounds.

“What is he on? He should be writhing in pain,” Sergei said. 

“I gave him morphine,” Solovyov told him and Sergei shot him a hard look 

“You gave someone with head trauma morphine? Without a doctor present to monitor his vitals?” 

“I did not want him in pain.” Solovyov asked and looked over Sergei’s shoulder as he moved to the left arm to set. 

“This is hard to do without x-rays,” Sergei said. “What happened to his head? I need to know that for assessment and treatment.”

“I wasn’t there for that,” Solovyov replied. He looked over Caleb anxiously and bit at his thumb nail before speaking again, his voice soft and bitter, “This is my fault. I just thought that I could get out of it without blowing my cover. I should have stopped it.” 

“He’ll be ok. The bones will set and heal. His left arm might give him some trouble later in life. Like I said I am doing this without my usual equipment. The back of his head was hit pretty hard but it doesn’t appear to be fractured. Keep an eye on him, he may have a concussion. I would usually tell you to keep him awake but I feel that would be cruel, and with the medication I am going to give him I don’t think he could stay awake if he tried. Come with me and I’ll tell you how much to give him,” Sergei said and went for the door.

“I want to stay in here, just write it down and leave the medication. When it’s time for his next dose I’ll give it to him.” Solovyov said and moved to the chair Sergei had been using.

“You know, Grigori, he isn’t mafia. He would be better off in a real hospital. There is only so much I am able to do,” Sergei said and glanced at Caleb one last time. He waited for Solovyov to answer him, but when the Russian remained silent he left the room. Solovyov knew that Sergei was right but his selfishness couldn’t be overcome even in a time like this. He could not be with Caleb in a hospital. He would have to drop him off and run. How could he possibly explain this without putting suspicion on himself? No, Caleb would stay with him.

He leaned down and placed a kiss to Caleb’s hand. He made sure he did not jostle Caleb’s arm as he did so. He looked over the now unconscious, and peaceful look on Caleb’s face. He leaned forward and placed a kiss to Caleb’s mouth. The more he looked at Caleb the stronger his guilt grew. Not just because he had used him so heartlessly but for letting Slatkin go as far as he did. Petrov’s words kept echoing in his head as he watched Caleb cry but even his threats couldn’t stop his heart from swelling to the point of rupture. He just hoped that Boris wouldn’t get into trouble because of his decision.

When Solovyov had been ordered to defect to Slatkin the last thing anyone expected was for Caleb to be brought into things. Solovyov could take torture if things turned badly and he knew the risks involved. No secrets would be divulged. That changed when he looked up to fight Caleb sitting in the warehouse. 

He just lost Petrov millions, and even though the war would be ended swiftly now that Slatkin had been killed Petrov would not be pleased that Solovyov did not follow the plan. With Slatkin dead it would be ten times more difficult to get his bank codes. If Solovyov wasn’t killed he was sure he would at the very least be kicked out or demoted. But looking at Caleb now he couldn’t help but believe that the boy would be worth whatever it was he had coming to him.

He thought a long time, watching Caleb sleep He wracked his mind for a means of escaping Petrov’s wrath. Petrov would be furious he ended things too quickly for someone not   
in the brotherhood. Suddenly an idea that might save him popped into his head and he went through Caleb’s clothes. Luckily, Slatkin had figured Caleb would be in no position to use his phone and left it in his back pocket. Solovyov quickly went through the contacts until he found the name of the one person who had any type of influence over Petrov. He pressed send and held it to his ear anxiously. Finally the phone connected and he heard a voice on the other end.

“Michael it is Grigori Aleksandrovich Solovyov. It’s about Caleb…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So no one wanted Caleb to lose his fingers so I changed it. I know some people thought that Slatkin or someone should try to rape Caleb, but I just don't think that is realistic. If Caleb were a woman then yes the Russian mafia would probably have raped her, but homosexual rape isn't common with the mob. And since gay mobsters are rare (or openly gay), and they are the maid focus of my story (and after Alexander and Scott I want to do a story for Friedrich (I don't know if anyone remembers him)) I want to keep the gay mobsters to a minimum. 
> 
> If there are any inconsistencies please let me know so I can fix them. When I change major aspects of the story like this sometimes I confuse the two. 
> 
> So let me know what you think!


	29. Chapter Twenty Nine

The good feeling the news that Caleb had woken up brought Solovyov immediately dissipated with the knock on the door announcing Iosef Petrov’s arrival. Solovyov was quite anxious to go speak with Caleb, and dreaded the conversation that needed to be had with his boss. He knew that he would not only have to explain why he killed Slatkin before getting access to his banking information, but also why he called Michael instead of him. Of course Petrov knew why he called Michael instead of him, and that would no doubt have infuriated him further.

Petrov was led inside, just a few feet in front of Michael. Michael smiled warmly at Solovyov and walked toward him, wrapping his arms around him in a quick hug. As Petrov looked at Solovyov over Michael’s head his face was hard and stony, visibly fighting the war between anger and fake gratitude that Michael would surely expect. Petrov’s eyebrows were raised a fraction of an inch higher than normal and his mouth was tight. The unknown always made Solovyov uneasy and the look on Petrov’s face was new to him. The moment Michael stepped away from him Solovyov waited for Petrov to simply shoot him, but he quickly realized even at his most angry that he would not kill someone in front of Michael. 

“Thank you for saving Caleb, Mr. Solovyov,” Michael told him with a smile. Solovyov nodded curtly, his jaw clenched and his smile tight. 

“It had to be done,” he replied and looked at Petrov as he said it. Petrov’s eyebrows raised just a little higher and a sour, bitter smile came to his lips. 

“Can I see him?” Michael asked, turning his head between Solovyov and Petrov, unsure who the proper Russian to gain permission from was. Solovyov looked to Petrov, wanting to give his boss the opportunity to answer first. 

“Well, Can he go see his friend?” Petrov asked and Solovyov nodded slowly. He looked back to Michael who was looking at him anxiously. 

“Yes, but he just woke up a moment ago and is on a lot of pain medication so be very quiet. He also has a concussion and two broken arms, so be careful if you touch him,” Solovyov told him. Michael nodded and turned to Petrov, asking him if he could go upstairs. Just as Michael began climbing the stairs Sergei was coming down the stairs. Solovyov and Petrov heard him lecture Michael on touching nothing, not going near the machines or the IVs. 

When Sergei came around the corner he was in shock to see Mr. Petrov and, putting two and two together and getting four, apologized for speaking to Michael in such a condescending manner. Petrov smiled at him, patted his shoulder, and informed him that a doctor with his education to speak to anyone however he liked. Sergei thanked him graciously and handed Solovyov a new bag filled with pain medications before excusing himself and leaving. When Petrov and Solovyov were finally left alone Petrov stared at him a long moment before speaking in Russian, his voice deep and tense. 

“You went over my head,” he told him, no longer making any attempt to hide his anger. 

“I did not think such a thing possible, Sir,” Solovyov replied and, despite the cold smile that spread over Petrov’s face, continued. “And I certainly did not think your nineteen year old lover was over your head. Should I go to him for my assignments from now on?” 

“Do you desire a bullet in your skull? Because by all means, keep talking.” 

“I apologize, Sir,” Solovyov told him. 

“Your ability for manipulation is admirable,” Petrov told him sitting down and crossing his legs. “You know I cannot punish you for saving Caleb, putting a mere boy over the interests of the brotherhood, because you informed Michael ahead of me, and you know I cannot punish you for informing Michael, for would that not be an admission of the influence people suspect Michael holds over me. Truly admirable.” 

“If I may sir, you would have done the same,” Solovyov told him and Petrov looked up at him with hot eyes. 

“Oh?” 

“If Michael had been in such a situation –” 

“Michael would not have been in that situation. I would not have allowed him to be in such a situation, because I protect Michael. Do not compare your shortcomings to my  
behavior. It is your own actions that put Caleb in that position. You should have been prepared to let him die.” 

“They were torturing him –”

“You have obligations! You have responsibilities!” he shouted standing and moving within inches of Solovyov. Solovyov was slightly taller than the already tall Petrov, but the more intimidation was clearly the mob boss. “You took an oath, an oath you sealed in your own blood and the blood of others, and you betrayed that oath. You ignored a direct order. 

Under no circumstances were you to deviate from the plan.” 

“I can still get the money, sir –” 

“Yes, you will,” Petrov informed him. “And if you don’t you will find yourself at the bottom of the East River.” 

“I understand sir,” Solovyov told him. 

“One of my greatest assets and I am this close to killing you,” Petrov told him. “Do you know how angry that makes me? To put me in a position where I am forced to kill someone with your intelligence, potential, and skill at exacting information through torture?” 

“I shall make sure you are not forced to kill me,” Solovyov told him calmly. Petrov shook his head. 

“Michael was no concerned,” Petrov told him. “Damn boy cutting into my profits and I don’t like it.” 

“I am sure Michael –”

“I meant Caleb,” Petrov snapped and Solovyov fell silent. 

“Of course, sir,” Solovyov replied. Petrov nodded. 

“Well, I should see him before leaving. Come with me,” Petrov said and Solovyov followed him up the stairs. When they came around the corner and stepped into the room Caleb was in Michael jumped away from the bed and Caleb was looking up like he was a little boy being caught with his hand in the cookie jar. 

“Peaking?” Petrov asked with a smile. Caleb nodded slowly. 

“My arms hurt,” Caleb answered and glanced at Solovyov. Petrov moved over to the side of Caleb’s bed and looked over the machines he was hooked up to. Solovyov took a step closer. 

“They are broken,” Petrov told him and gently patted his shoulder as to not jostle him. 

“Why aren’t they in casts?” he asked. 

“Our doctor does not have the necessary supplies for casts right now. You will be taken and dropped off at a hospital now that you are awake. An unidentifiable brother will take you,” Petrov told him and glanced at Solovyov, telling him that he was not to drive or drive with Caleb to the hospital. Caleb nodded. As uncomfortable as casts were, it would be more comfortable that the large, blocky metal splints he had on right now. 

“Well, you must be tired. I will allow you to rest. Michael, say good bye to Caleb.” 

“Bye, Caleb,” Michael whispered and gave Caleb a soft, awkward hug. 

“Bye, Mikey,” Caleb told him and said softly his goodbye to Petrov. Petrov left the room, shooting one hard glance at Solovyov. For a moment Solovyov and Caleb looked at each other in silence. Solovyov spoke first, struggling find the right words. 

“Do you need more medication?” he asked and Caleb nodded. 

“Yeah, it hurts,” Caleb mumbled and Solovyov put some more morphine into his IV. Caleb leaned back on his pillow and sighed. “Nice little set up you got here.”  
Solovyov nodded. 

“This is where I was when I was shot,” he told him. 

“In this bed?” Caleb asked and Solovyov nodded. 

“This is my room in this safe house,” Solovyov told him and moved to sit on his chair by Caleb’s bed side. “Do you remember what happened?” 

“Not really,” Caleb told him. “It’s all a bit fuzzy.” 

“You were struck on the head pretty hard,” Solovyov told him. 

“You were in the room? I remember that.” 

“Yes I was…” Solovyov admitted and then paused. “I let it go on as long as I could, but I stopped it when he went for your legs.” 

 

“My arms will heal though right, I mean, it’s nothing permanent,” Caleb said. Solovyov nodded. 

“If we get you to the hospital today. Sergei set the bones but with no x-rays. If we get you in today the hospital might not need to re-break them to insure they heal correctly.” 

“Well, let’s get in today,” Caleb said and laughed uncomfortably. 

“Caleb… I’m sorry,” Solovyov said and then blushed at how ridiculous that sounded now. “For everything.” 

“Yeah, you could have stopped it after my first arm,” Caleb said and tried to laugh again. 

“Had I done that Petrov certainly would have killed me,” he breathed and Caleb perked up. 

“Kill you?” Caleb asked. Solovyov nodded. 

“I am not indispensable, Caleb,” Solovyov told him. “I lost Petrov a lot of money and wounded his pride in the process.” 

“Thank you for helping me then,” Caleb answered. Solovyov nodded. 

“I am sorry for others things as well,” Solovyov continued. “For leaving you the way I did. For being so cold and unfeeling. I was scared of my feelings.” 

“I gave you something special. I know you didn’t think it was special but you knew I did, and you took it anyway, knowing it meant nothing to you.” Caleb’s voice was bitter and angry and Solovyov nodded. He reached out and gently ran his fingers over Caleb’s hand. It caused a tingle on Caleb’s skin but he did not push him away. 

“I beleived myself above love,” Solovyov told him. “But being apart from you, fearing so deeply for your safety, and seeing you hurt…. I no longer think of myself in those terms.”  
He looked over at Caleb and looked over the smooth, innocent face of the boy whose emotional pain he was not only responsible for but physical as well. Caleb looked at him and then back at their hands. 

“Which means what exactly?” Caleb mumbled. 

“I love you,” Solovyov said and when Caleb’s eyes snapped up to look at his he was looking at the bed covers. The fear of rejection grew so strong within him that he was unsure  
he could take much more. His insides were quivering and he regretted making himself so vulnerable. He had thought the only way to get Caleb back was to temporarily remove his walls and show Caleb how he truly felt but he now felt that he had only left himself open for ridicule and rejection. The last time he had laid himself so open was with Borya when he was still a boy. That experience had caused him to shut down and create such thick concrete walls around his heart that without them he felt naked.

Solovyov looked up to try and gage Caleb’s reaction. Caleb was looking at him with wide blue-grey eyes and the Russian waited. He was about to stand and leave, feeling his efforts in vain and his inability to express himself to be his downfall. He was stopped by Caleb’s voice but he thought he heard him incorrectly. Surely he could not be given a second chance. Not after all the terrible choices he had made. 

“I love you too,” Caleb said softly. “But I cannot be played with again. This has to be real, serious. Otherwise leave me alone to heal and move on.” 

“I want you Caleb,” Solovyov said. “I want you emotionally. I missed having you near me. I missed talking to you.” 

“I missed you too,” Caleb told him. “I was scared for you.” 

“I am not good with expressing myself. I sometimes do not even know how to explain my feelings to myself. But if you give me a second chance then I promise you, I will not let you down. I will protect you. I would never let this happen to you again.” 

Caleb smiled softly and nodded. 

“But before you decide I do want you to know that if I do not succeed in getting Petrov the money he had been after there is a very strong possibility that I will be executed.”  
Solovyov was almost pleased as Caleb blanched in horror. 

“Petrov wouldn’t kill you,” Caleb said shaking his head. Solovyov smiled. 

“I told you, he would kill his own mother if she crossed him,” Solovyov said softly. “But not Michael.” 

“Let’s talk after I go to the hospital,” Caleb said and forced a crooked smile. “We can hash everything out when I’m not doped up and in pain.” 

Solovyov nodded and stood. 

“I will call someone to bring you in. I cannot go,” Solovyov told him. 

“Grigori?” Caleb asked as he turned to leave and Solovyov looked back to look at him. “Can I have a kiss?” 

Solovyov smiled and walked back to him, slowly leaning down and placing a kiss to his mouth. 

“I miss you,” Caleb told him again and Solovyov put another kiss to his lips. 

“I missed you too,” he told him, holding himself up over Caleb by the head bored of the bed. “When you heal, I am going to make love to you.” 

The phrase brought a smile to Caleb’s face. 

“After we talk and you are tested,” he murmured when Solovyov kissed him again. Solovyov pulled back. 

“I am clean,” Solovyov told him. 

“I don’t care. I want to see your results before I have sex with you again, especially if you don’t want to have to wear a condom, and I think we should both be tested every six  
months.” 

Solovyov nodded. 

“I suppose that is fair,” he conceded. “Anything for you.” 

“Good,” Caleb said. “Now I would really like to go to the hospital.” 

Solovyov nodded. 

“I will go make the phone call.” 

()

Caleb winced as he sat in the passenger seat with a man in street close and a thick Brooklyn accent. His arms hurt something terrible, Solovyov had not given him any medication for over five hours so as little as possible would still be in his system when he arrived at the hospital. 

“We are going to make this thing believable, alright?” the man asked as he chomped on his gum. 

“Yeah,” Caleb replied shortly. 

“I’m going to pull up in front of the ER, you are going to get out, I’m going to run around screaming, and haul your ass in there saying you were attacked by a thug with a bat.  
They are going to take you in, and I’m going to split, alright?” 

“Yeah,” he replied. 

“Make it good. Cry if you can,” the man said. “I can punch an arm if you want.” 

“No, that’s fine,” Caleb replied quickly. 

“You sure, that’ll make you cry.” 

“Absolutly positive,” Caleb replied and the man shrugged. 

“Whatever,” he mumbled and they came in sight of the hospital. “Here we are, hey look at that sign.” 

Caleb turned his head but immediately saw stars when the man reached out and placed a jab to his left arm. Caleb cried out in pain and tears sprung to his eyes. He groaned and bit on his lip hard, bringing up his foot and trying to kick at the driver in anger. 

“Had to be done, man,” he replied and whipped into the parking lot. “Show time.” 

Caleb could not even open the car door his pain was so bad, but the man did so for him, yanking him out roughly and dragging him crying into the ER. 

“Asshole!” he screamed. 

“I know,” the man breathed. “Help! This kid was attacked! Thug got him with a bat.” 

As expected the man the nurses grabbed him and he was able to slip away without a concern. As Caleb was taken back and brought into a room he was cursing the unnamed driver the entire time. 

()  
After his arms were x-rayed, his bones were re-set (the doctors were amazed that the seemingly terribly damaged bones were so nearly perfectly set already) and his arms were cast, he was allowed to call his parents and inform them where he was. They arrived at the hospital immediately, furious that he had gotten himself so badly hurt, but doting on him all the while. They wanted to keep him in the hospital for a few days to monitor the head wound he had received. They also wanted to keep him hooked up to a morphine pump for one more day. The breaks were bad enough to warrant such treatment. 

It was later in the day, around four when he and his family were watching a hockey game that Solovyov walked into the room, pausing in surprise at the sight of so many people in the room with him. His lips parted a moment and he touched his tie, smoothing it out slowly. He looked at Caleb, who himself seemed not only surprised to see him, but unsure how to explain Solovyov to his parents. 

“Excuse me, wrong room,” Solovyov said instead and turned to leave. 

“Wait!” Caleb called. He did not want Solovyov to leave. He’d rather have to truck through an uncomfortable conversation with his family than have him leave. Still Solovyov did not turn around and Caleb motioned for his brother. “Thomas go get him.” 

“He sounded Russian,” Josh said shaking his head. “Don’t go near him.” 

“Go get him, I know him,” Caleb said and struck a leg out at Thomas. Thomas stood and ran out of the room, glancing back at his parents. When he came back into the room Solovyov was following him, clenching his jaw. 

“Um, Mom, Dad, this is Grigori. He’s my… my boyfriend.” 

Solovyov forced a smile but said nothing. 

“He’s a bit old isn’t he?” Caleb’s mother asked. 

“Mom! He’s standing right there!” 

“It is quite alright,” Solovyov said. “I am thirty six actually.” 

He reached out to shake everyone’s hand, but the sound of his voice was enough to shake everyone up. 

“And Russian I see,” she said and Caleb colored in embarrassment. 

“I am,” Solovyov agreed. “I was raised in Siberia.” 

“I’ve seen you on TV,” Joshua observed. “You own those clubs where all those bodies were found.” 

Solovyov turned to look at him, a frown on his lips. 

“Unfortunately being a Russian immigrant at a time like this brings unwanted attention, from both criminals and the police.” 

“So you aren’t mafia?” Thomas asked. 

“Thomas you don’t just ask something like that,” Joshua said and slapped him on the shoulder. 

“I am most assuredly not in the mafia,” Solovyov replied smoothly. “I own and manage a number of clubs through Manhattan and the Bronx.” 

“And you met Caleb…”

“At one of my clubs a few months ago,” Solovyov told them. 

“Hey, mom, dad think I can have some time with Grigori?” Caleb asked and though his mother began to object his father stood and hurried everyone out of the room. 

“We will be back for dinner,” his father told him and Caleb thanked him, leaving Solovyov and Caleb alone. 

“That was uncomfortable,” Solovyov said, shutting the door to his private room. “I would have called and asked if you had visitors but I did not want it known I was here. They would have asked my name.” 

“It is fine,” Caleb said. “They had to find out about you eventually.” 

“I would have liked to be prepared. Are you well?” 

“Much better. The doctors said my bones were nearly perfectly set. You should tell Sergei that he did a pretty dam good job without any x-rays.” 

Solovyov nodded. 

“When are you leaving the hospital?” he asked. 

“Tomorrow morning,” Caleb told them. “I had swelling in my brain they wanted to keep an eye on.” 

“Are you up to talking?” Solovyov asked him. 

“Yeah, I’m ready to talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to be added to my email list send me an email at historymj93@yahoo.com and I will add you!   
> Thanks!


	30. Chapter Thirty

Chapter 30:

Solovyov lay beside Caleb in the hospital bed, his board shoulders acting as a pillow for the back of Caleb’s head. Caleb leaned back against him, a little smile on his pale lips as the Russian ran the tip of the black marker over the white cast, beautiful Russian script being left in its wake. He could feel his Russian’s heart beating against his back, could feel the soft breath on his cheek and felt for the first time in a long time completely at peace. Everything about Solovyov’s demeanor had seemed to change. He spared more kisses, leaned in to more embraces, and many times since the end of their long talk he would look up to find the Russian merely staring at him. Still there was the tiny hint of hesitation, of reluctance, but when Caleb reacted warmly and affectionately, it vanished immediately. 

“What does it say?” he asked as he saw the marker dry against the cast. He had signed both, one with a slightly longer phrase and an arrow, and one with just a few words, a little dash underneath, and what Caleb assumed was his name. 

“This says, ‘I love you’ and my name,” he told Caleb, running his own finger tips over the letters. “And this one,” he said indicating the phrase with the arrow, “means, ‘I bet that itches’.” 

Caleb groaned immediately and elbowed Solovyov in the ribs, a terrible itch springing up over his covered arms. Solovyov laughed, a hearty, warm laugh that Caleb did not think he had ever heard before. It made Caleb forget his annoyance for a moment and leaned back into his Russian lover. Solovyov leaned down and placed a kiss to his lips, gently stroking his jaw. 

“Every time I see that I am going to itch,” Caleb grumbled between kisses. 

“And I will be there to distract you from them,” Solovyov replied, his hand moving to lift the hospital gown from Caleb’s groin. 

“Not here… oh…” Caleb breathed when Solovyov’s large hand took his cock into a firm grip. It sprang to life, immediately pulsing blood into the hot organ. As Solovyov stroked it gently, he smoothed his palm out over the sensitive head, making Caleb shudder in delicious ecstasy. He glanced nervously toward the open door, praying a nurse would not come in to ask if he needed anything. It seemed unlikely, since Solovyov had entered no nurses had returned, and Caleb thought the Russian might have said something at the nurse’s station. But still Caleb was scared to be discovered with his cock out in his mobster boyfriend’s hand in a hospital bed. 

“Why haven’t you ever given me head?” Caleb asked out of curiosity. He knew plenty of tops that would suck cock. Scott was mainly a top and he loved giving blowjobs, though Scott was a sexual enigma to Caleb. Scott would often say ‘what gay man didn’t want another man’s cock in his mouth? It’s just not normal not to.’ 

He felt Solovyov tense slightly underneath him and grimaced slightly hoping he did not ruin the moment. But Solovyov’s hand began stroking him again and he thought a moment. 

“I had bad experience when I was boy,” he answered simply. 

Caleb nodded but said nothing else, not wishing to anger the Russian and ruin the moment. He bit back his moan as he orgasmed and shuddered against Solovyov’s strong body. 

He could feel the bulge in the Russian’s trousers as he moved his naked leg to the right slightly, but he made no move to have Caleb return the favor. Instead Solovyov pulled Caleb’s gown down and rubbed his thighs softly, placing a kiss to his mouth. 

“Will you move in with me?” Solovyov asked. “The house is too big for just me.” 

“No,” Caleb said immediately. “I want to move slowly. This is your first real relationship and I think we should ease into things.” 

“I do not want to ease,” Solovyov said stubbornly and it brought a little smile to Caleb’s lips. 

“Don’t worry we will still have sex,” Caleb told him, trying to find a comfortable position for his awkwardly casted arms. It was a struggle. Solovyov was silent a few moments. 

“But having sex is what we did before,” he finally said. “we should live together now.” 

“No,” Caleb said without as much sternness this time. He looked back at Solovyov, his blue eyes landing on Solovyov’s dark ones. “Building meaningful relationships takes time. We will go slow. I am going to get an apartment in the city with Scott and I will visit you a lot and you can visit me too when you are in the city.” 

“I do not want you to live in the city. It’s too dangerous. My home is an appropriate distance from the violence that –”

“Grigori?... No,” he said and Solovyov fell silent. Still, Caleb could see his jaw clenching in anger. Caleb smiled and pressed his lips to his mouth. “Baby.”

“I am not,” was all he said and glanced up at the television. He was about to speak again when Joshua came bounding into the room with a bag of Chinese food. 

“I thought I’d come in first in case you guys were screwing,” he said putting the bag down. “Mom was scared to come in.” 

Solovyov blushed a deeper red than even Caleb and gently removed himself from the bed. He did not say a word, but instead stood uncomfortably. Thomas and Caleb’s parents came in shortly after, followed surprisingly enough by a very happy looking Michael. Michael greeted Solovyov warmly and received a curt nod in return. 

“I ran into your parents on the stairs,” Michael told Caleb, sitting down on the bed. “Iosef told me to call first, but then told me I wasn’t allowed to use my real name, so how would you know who I was, right?” 

“It’s good to see you,” Caleb smiled. “Where is Scott?” 

“Scott is still at the home up state. He wanted to come see you too but Iosef didn’t have a place to put him that was safe in the city, and he didn’t want him to live in the penthouse or one of the safe houses. Scott decided to stay rather than risk it anywhere else, but he wanted me to tell you to call him,” Michael explained and Caleb nodded. 

“Have you been introduced then?” Caleb asked Michael and his family and they all nodded. Caleb looked at Michael. “And what did you tell them exactly?” 

“The truth,” Michael said, a look of pure innocence and confusion on his face. “That you and I met at college and that when Mr. Solovyov was being pressured by Iosef, I intervened and now we are good friends.” 

His eyes twinkled as Caleb smiled. He was not foolish enough to try and convince his family that Petrov was not a mobster, but he managed to confirm Caleb’s story that Solovyov was an honest businessman. 

“I will be going,” Solovyov said curtly. “I have work to be done.” 

He leaned down toward Caleb and gave him a little kiss to his cheek. 

“I would like to bring you home from hospital tomorrow,” he said quietly and Caleb nodded. 

“Be here at noon?” 

He nodded and left, leaving his uncomfortable parents and awe struck brothers in his wake. Michael sat on the foot of the bed, eyeing the Chinese food with hungry eyes. 

“Can I have some?”   
()

When Solovyov came to get Caleb the boy’s mother was there waiting. Caleb was quietly trying to convince his mother than he did not want to go home again just yet and that Solovyov would make sure he was well cared for. The woman argued stubbornly for a long while and Solovyov kept his distance, standing an uncomfortable ten feet away. He glanced up occasionally to see if any progress was being made. 

“Where do you live Mr. Solovyov?” she asked him, her voice raising to reach him at his distance. 

“I live in Green Woods,” Solovyov answered and her eyebrows rose. Most club owners could not afford such affluent housing, but it was a safe area and so she relented. 

“See ma, it’s only like fifteen minutes away,” Caleb said and gave her an awkward hug. 

“Just make sure you use protection,” she said patting his cheek and Caleb turned red. He gently pushed his mother away and smiled sheepishly at Solovyov. 

“She doesn’t like me much,” Solovyov mused as he carried Caleb’s things to his car. 

“She is just protective,” Caleb replied. “No driver?”

“I want to be alone,” Solovyov told him and Caleb smiled. 

“Good… think you would help me shower when we get back? I have trouble moving my arms at full range of motion,” Caleb said and Solovyov smiled. 

“I definitely think I could,” Solovyov said with a little wink. 

“Oh… if my brother ever asks for you to employ him as your lawyer the answer is no, got it?” Caleb asked. “He won’t be working for the mob.” 

“I have a whole team of lawyers, Caleb. I won’t be hiring your brother,” Solovyov told him as he started the car.

“Good,” Caleb said again. He reached out and took Solovyov’s hand in his. “Can we cuddle tonight?” 

“Cuddle?” Solovyov asked. “I was hoping for more than cuddle.” 

“We can cuddle afterward,” Caleb laughed. 

“After is good,” Solovyov replied seriously and Caleb laughed again. Solovyov squeezed his hand warmly. When they got to Solovyov’s home they went upstairs to the bathroom silently. Solovyov helped Caleb out of his clothes before removing his own and turning on the shower. 

“I have to put these plastic things on my arms,” Caleb said as he reached into the bag the hospital gave him. “And I have to try and avoid getting them too wet.” 

“I can do that,” Solovyov said and helped slid Caleb’s arm into the plastic openings. 

“Now, I really need to just shower. I feel gross,” Caleb told Solovyov and the Russian nodded. 

“I suppose,” Solovyov said blandly. He tested the water’s warmth and then motioned his head to the side. Caleb slipped into the shower and held his arms out, dipping his blond head under the warm spray. The feel of Solovyov’s hands on him had his cock standing at attention almost immediately, but Caleb did his best to ignore it. The hands messaged his shoulders gently, his lips placing gentle kisses on his cheek, his tongue licking his earlobe. He soaped up every inch of him, running his hands over him with a gentle firmness. 

“God my cock’s so hard,” Caleb breathed. 

“You said only showering,” Solovyov teased. Caleb thought that the Russian would move his hands to his cock but he never did. Instead he washed Caleb’s hair, messaging his scalp and running his fingers through his thick blonde hair. When Caleb ducked his head under the water to rinse he felt Solovyov step out of the shower behind him. Solovyov turned the water off once Caleb was rinsed off and helped him out of the bath. He had a warm towel waiting for him. 

“Do you have a TV in your bedroom?” Caleb asked, wrapping the towel around his waist. Solovyov nodded. “Let’s go in there then. We can watch T.V for a little bit. Spend the night in the bedroom.”

“How about a drink?” Solovyov asked when Caleb opened the bathroom door.

“I don’t like alcohol,” Caleb said and Solovyov smiled softly.

“I have a…very expensive bottle of vodka. I’ve had it a long time. I’d like to open it with you,” he said and Caleb nodded.

“Alright, that sounds nice,” Caleb smiled and Solovyov pointed out his room to Caleb. 

When Caleb entered Solvoyov’s room he flicked on the flat screen and sprawled out on the neatly made bed. His hand went to his still hard cock and he stroked himself. It took only a few minutes for him to climax and he wiped it away with his towel. He could hear Solovyov climbing the stairs down the hall and waited for him with a warm tingle in his stomach. 

He inhaled deeply and felt a large smile spread over his face as he took in the rich, masculine smell that was Solovyov. It was so comforting to finally be surrounded by Solovyov once again. It had his chest and stomach bubbling with warmth and he was overcome with a surge of happiness. He was so happy to know that he was back in Solovyov’s life that he actually felt a laugh bubble up inside of him and break free from his lips.

“Something funny?” Solovyov asked as he entered the room and Caleb smiled at him. The Russian’s tie had been loosened and his coat removed. The white dress shirt hung on his body beautifully and he put the drink glasses and bottle on his night stand.

“Just happy,” Caleb said and Solovyov sat down next to him on the bed and smiled himself. His hand went to Caleb’s bare chest and trailed down to his abdomen. The towel had been tossed to the side and so Caleb lay their naked. Solovyov’s hand moved from his abdomen to the inside of his thigh, stroking him gently. He watched with a little smile as Caleb’s cock sprang to life once again. 

“Me too,” Solovyov said softly. He removed his hand to open the vodka bottle and poured two oversized shots. 

“I hate shots you know,” Caleb told him as he sat up and took the glass from him.

“It’s what real men drink,” Solovyov said and smiled. He leaned in and kissed Caleb’s lips before pulling back. “What should we drink too?” 

Caleb thought for a moment before he reached out and took Solovyov’s hand into his. He squeezed warmly and brought the hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of his knuckles. 

“Us,” he said and Solovyov nodded and the two clinked their glasses together. Solovyov watched Caleb toss back the vodka and smiled when Caleb’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. 

“Smooth is it not?” Solovyov asked. Caleb nodded and placed the drink on the table. Grigori smiled and downed his. Grigori kicked off his shoes and crawled onto the bed next to Caleb.

“I’m so happy to have you with me again, Caleb,” He said gently, placing his hand back on Caleb’s chest. One of his finger’s gently trailed over his nipple. 

“Me too,” Caleb said and turned to look at him. Caleb raised his head up and kissed Solovyov’s lips gently. When he lowered his head back to the pillow Grigori went with him and kept their lips connected. “You’re so sexy.”

“You think so?” Solovyov smiled against Caleb’s jaw and kissed his smooth skin.

“Yes,” Caleb said and unbuttoned his shirt. “You’ve got that whole mysterious thing going on. And your accent…”

Solovyov took Caleb’s lips in his and gave him a hard kiss. One of his hands went to grip the back of Caleb’s neck and hold him in for the kiss. Caleb’s tongue trailed along Grigori’s lower lip and he ran his fingers through his thick auburn hair. He ruffled it, pushing the part to the side and smiled against Grigori’s mouth. 

“Can I Caleb?” Grigori asked and grabbed Caleb’s erection. Caleb paused a moment but nodded. Caleb fumbled with the button’s of Solovyov’s shirt and removed it, hurrying to remove his undershirt afterward. 

“I love your tattoos,” Caleb said and ran his hands over the black ink that covered his body. Solovyov smiled and grabbed Caleb’s hand that rested on his abdomen. He pushed his hand lower until it was pressed against his hard erection. Caleb blushed up at him and rubbed his hand over the growing bulge. “Need help taking care of that?”

Solovyov pulled away from him and balanced on his knees as he unbuttoned his trousers. Once they were unbuttoned he rolled onto his back next to Caleb. He kicked off the trousers and then his underwear. Caleb placed himself between his legs and gripped the large cock at its base and trailed the glistening head against his lips.

“I love uncut cock,” he said slyly and dragged his tongue across the head.

“Hmm, and exactly how many cocks do you have to compare?” Solovyov asked and placed his hands behind his head. He closed his eyes and waited to be serviced. 

“Two others,” Caleb said and stroked the cock in his hands. “And they were both circumcised.”

“That’s the problem with America. It’s so difficult to find an uncut cock,” he smiled but Caleb frowned.

“I’m circumcised,” he said and Grigori smiled.

“I know, and I love your cock. Now put your lips around my cock or I’ll be forced to make you,” he said and Caleb obeyed with a smile. He gave the head a lick one more time before he took it into his mouth. Grigori took in a slight intake of breath and pushed Caleb’s head down farther onto his cock. “Imagine what people would think if they saw you right now,” Grigori breath out as Caleb’s head bobbed up and down. “Sucking a Russian mobsters cock like a little whore.”

Caleb moaned around his cock and Grigori took one hand away to grab a fistful of hair. Grigori watched him work up and down on his cock, occasionally he would remove his mouth and lick his length.

“I want to fuck you,” Grigori said and pulled Caleb’s mouth off of him. Caleb nodded and got onto his hands and knees. He waited for Solvoyov to settle behind him. After a few seconds he didn’t and Caleb turned around to see Solovyov laying back down on the bed. “Come here,” he said and beckoned Caleb closer. Caleb crawled over to him and kissed him warmly.

“What?” he asked and kissed Solvoyov’s neck. The Russian smiled and grabbed Caleb’s throbbing erection and stroked him slowly.

“I want you to ride me,” Solvoyov said and Caleb licked his lips. “Come on.”

Solovyov gently gripped Caleb’s hip and guided him closer. Caleb kneeled with his knees on either side of Solvoyov’s waist and pressed his palms on his chest. He waited for Grigori to put on a condom before allowing the Russian to slowly guide him down.

“Just sit down on it,” Grigori said softly. “You control it.”

Caleb nodded and gently pressed down on Solovyov’s cock. He moaned as he felt his body opening up to him and Solovyov rubbed his hip bones gently. Solovyov let out a small moan as Caleb managed to take nearly all of him inside himself. Caleb waited a moment, breathing heavy, and looked down into the deep, dark eyes of his Russian lover. Grigori waited for Caleb to begin moving and when he did he moaned deep in his throat.

“Fuck Caleb,” Grigori said and closed his eyes. Caleb moved up and down over the Russian and bit his lip hard. Solovyov had one hand on his hip and the other went to Caleb’s own erection. His hand gripped him and stroked him rhythmically. As Solovyov’s hand moved Caleb’s movements became more frantic and he moved sporadically against Grigori. The grip on Caleb’s hips grew firmer the faster he moved and Caleb felt the Russian’s finger nails dig into his skin.

“Oh God, Oh God,” Caleb breathed and Solovyov watched his flushed skin grow pinker and his blond hair flop around his head. Grigori pulled Caleb off of him and Caleb grunted in protest.

“What-“

“I want to fuck you,” Solovyov said and put Caleb back onto his hands and knees. He pushed down on Caleb’s head so his face pressed into the comforter. The Russian pulled his hips upward and entered him easily. His asshole was already ready for him. Caleb moaned as he slid into him and grabbed his cock, pumping his hand back and forth fast and hard. Solovoyv began to thrust in and out, steady at first, but soon growing in speed and intensity.

By the time Caleb and Solovyov had both climaxed they were coated thickly with sweat and panting hard. Caleb lay on the blankets exhausted and silently let Solovyov collect him in his arms. He lay back in bed with him.

“Doesn’t it smell good?” Grigori asked and inhaled against Caleb’s neck. He placed a small kiss to his Adam’s apple when Caleb remained silent. “Do you think, at some point, you will trust me to let me make love to you without a condom?” he asked and Caleb was silent a moment. He looked up at the ceiling a moment in thought.

“I want you to get tested and I want to see the results,” Caleb said and Solovyov nodded.

“Ok,” Solovyov said and brushed Caleb’s hair away from his eyes.

“And you have to promise me, promise,” Caleb said and looked up at Solovyov. “that you won’t sleep around while you’re with me. I mean it.” He touched the softly smiling Russian’s cheek. “If you want to sleep with a bunch of different men, fine, but don’t mess around with me while doing it. If you want me, then you get just me. Promise?”

“I promise Caleb,” Grigori said looking into his eyes. He lowered his face slowly and gave him a chaste kiss. “I promise.”

Caleb looked into his eyes intently but in them he saw only sincerity and honesty. A smile came to his face and he snuggled closer to the Russian’s warm, hard body.

“I love you, Grigori,” Caleb said softly.

“I love you, Caleb.”   
The End


End file.
